Wanderer's Home arc 2: Autobots
by Gatekat
Summary: G1. Jazz/OFC, Prime/OFC, many others. When Starscream goes beyond betrayal, Ezara struggles to find a place among the Autobots.
1. Love and Loyalty

Wanderer's Home arch 1 is http://www. fanfiction. net /s/5785903/1/Wanderers_Home_arc_1

_Fandom_: Transformers G1 season 1 + The Ultimate Guide  
_Timing_: Pre-"War of the Dinobots"  
_Pairing_: Skywarp/Ezara, Perceptor/Caurun, Perceptor/Acid Burn  
_Rating_: PG  
_Codes_: Slash, Het

_Summary_: Skywarp risks it all to save Ezara, including risking loosing her for good.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home 14: Love and Loyalty**

* * *

"Don't shoot," Skywarp said as he appeared just outside the entrance to the Ark with his arms raised, startling Huffer and Gears where they were standing guard duty. "I need to talk to Jazz."

"And if we don't want you to?" Huffer challenged him.

"I warp inside and grab him," the Seeker said in irritation, openly impatient and on edge. "Just go get him."

"You..." Huffer was cut off by the arrival of the Autobot's head of intelligence.

"Y'a wan'a talk, talk," Jazz told him as he shifted to base form.

"You want Ezara. I'll give her to you, if you give me your word as an Autobot to repair her," Skywarp said simply as Optimus Prime and Caurun joined them. "Keep her, protect her ... just make sure she stays away from Starscream until she remembers who she was, and can kill him for good."

"I can do that," Caurun said, earning him a deadly look from Skywarp.

"If you do so much as _touch_ her, I will rip you apart," the Seeker snarled.

"Calm down," Optimus Prime stepped between them, grateful that Caurun stepped back and didn't challenge the Decepticon. "Why are you doing this?"

"And behind Megatron's back, I'd wager," Jazz added, sure of his guess.

"Megatron thinks she's been destroyed. So does Starscream," Skywarp said, getting even more edgy at the reminders of what he was doing. "She doesn't have much time," he focused on Jazz. "Your word, Autobot."

"You have my word," Jazz said.

"And mine," Optimus Prime added even as Skywarp grabbed Jazz by the arm and disappeared.

"If he's not in love with her, he's faking it well," Caurun observed.

"You are to stay away from her," Optimus Prime turned to face Caurun, his voice even. "Preferably out of sight. She is under Autobot protection now."

"I will," Caurun agreed, though he wasn't all that happy about it.

* * *

"Wow," Jazz caught himself when he appeared inside a cave with Skywarp. He didn't have much time to assess the trip or destination, though. Ezara, or what was left of her, was on the floor against the wall.

"What _happened_?" Jazz couldn't help but gasp at her state, and the fact that she was still functional on any level.

"Starscream set a trap for her," Skywarp said in the darkness behind the lights they both focused on Ezara. "Several enhanced energon warheads and no warning. I thought she was deactivated too, until I touched her. Look, she hates Ratchet. Really hates him. He's the only one that can keep her alive. Just be ready. Anybody who's hurt her she's probably going to try and kill. Soundwave did a number on her."

"Why me?" Jazz glanced over his shoulder at Skywarp as he picked up Ezara's broken remains, staining his arms with lubricant, energon and bits of her body.

"She likes you," he said stiffly and put his hands on Jazz's shoulders, keeping Ezara between them. "She _might_ listen to you long enough to stay alive," he said before teleporting again, to just outside the Ark's entrance.

"By Primus!" Ratchet gasped at his first look at his newest patient. "Get her on the repair table. NOW." He ordered sharply, more than half surprised when Skywarp grabbed Jazz again and disappeared.

"Optimus, I can help," Caurun turned to the bot who had ordered him to stay clear. "She needs more than you know how to do."

"Then tell us how to do it," Optimus told him firmly. "At least until we've got things sorted out," he added as Jazz sent him a communication. "We'll have a hard enough time keeping her from killing Ratchet when she comes around, let alone what she'll do if she sees you and assumes that we're just going to turn her over."

"Okay, okay," he had to pause to think, to translate things he simply _did_ into something the Autobots could use. "You'll need a container large enough for her when she's whole. Fill with energon, put her in it. Keep it full; she'll consume it fast in her state. With any byte of luck, she's got enough repair programming on-line that she won't wake up in it. I'll get a measure of repair nanites and the material she'll need from my ship."

"How will an energon bath help?" Prowl asked him as the earth rumbled with the passage of Caurun's ship to the surface.

"Tezita don't need mechanics to repair us. We need material and power," Caurun explained. "With enough energy, she could convert the air around her to the missing material."

"We'll see what we can do," Optimus told him. "Retrieve your sample and leave it with Perceptor, he'll deliver it to the infirmary."

"Will do," Caurun flicked his chin to the right and waited for his ship while the others returned to the Ark and their duties.

Optimus turned, going in to the repair bay to watch Ratchet as he worked on the worst of her injuries.

"Wheeljack - what would you say her odds are?" He asked, wanting to leave Ratchet to focus.

"If it wasn't for Caurun's opinion that she's still viable, I'd say less than those of Megatron's defecting tomorrow," he shook his head. "How she's keeping her processors powered is beyond me."

"Sheer will to live ... probably wanting to survive to get back at Starscream. And maybe a little bit more," Optimus admitted. "When Perceptor comes in, I want him to run a comprehensive scan of her once she's stable."

"I'll make sure he knows," Wheeljack nodded. "It could be a while, even if this trick of Caurun's works."

"I brought the supplies," Perceptor said as he hurried in. "He said to inject the nanites into her torso, put her in the energon and place the metal touching her. Keep the energon level covering her and the metal touching as it's used, and wait."

"No offense, but I want to patch these leaks first," Ratchet called out from the operating room. "Get the container ready, and somebody get me some fresh gaskets. Besides, you'll need the time to get the tank filled."

"Understood," Perceptor agreed, going to prepare the setup that Caurun had described with imagery as much as words in a touch.

"I'll take a look at those before we put them in," Wheeljack offered, taking the sample of the nanites. "It's not that I don't trust him, but -"

"But you don't particularly trust him - I understand," Optimus Prime nodded. "Better to be safe than sorry, and it shouldn't take long."

"What do you think of Skywarp's arrival? Do you think this might be some sort of plot?" Wheeljack asked as he considered the nanites with his sensors, running what he could pick up through his technical databanks for comparison. By all appearances they were what they should be. A form of medical nanite, intended to build and repair, but nothing else. The only thing he was absolutely sure of was that they weren't any tech he'd seen before.

"It is always possible," Optimus Prime said. "But if it is, I have doubts they would have damaged her this badly."

"_If_ it's a ploy, it's one they thought up _after_ she was blown to bits," Ratchet commented without looking up.

"Besides, if it was a ploy, why insist on _my_ word, not yours?" Jazz asked as he joined them. "It's got all the markings of something Skywarp thought up, and as well-planned as anything he does. He told me a lot more than he should have, after all. He really did feel panicked."

"Did he give you anything useful?" Optimus asked Jazz, glancing over at him.

"Nothing we couldn't have guessed, except for the source of her damage," Jazz admitted. "But he really did try to drive home the point that she really, really hates Ratchet and she's only likely to attack those who hurt her already. He's acting like someone who's trying to give us the best chance we can of having this work. Skywarp is a terrible actor," he added. "There are much better choices for how to set this up."

"Do you think he's going to try 'rescuing' her after we can finish repairs?" Optimus asked him. "It could be very difficult to stop him if he thought to."

Jazz shook his head. "Not likely, Boss Bot. He wants us to protect her 'til she remembers who she was and can fry Starscream. I doubt he'll come for her until he thinks she's safe with the Decepticons again."

"We'll just have to hope that she's ready to stay here by then. This could actually give us an advantage dealing with Caurun, though I'm sure he won't like it."

"I'm sure," Jazz agreed, watching as Ratchet moved her shattered remains into the energon bath with the metal. "Oh wow," he murmured as the energon level began to drop rapidly, soaked up by a body trying to repair itself from anything it was in contact with. "He wasn't exaggerating."

"Not at all - let's just hope it's enough," Optimus Prime nodded as she made visible progress in just the first few minutes. "Alert me when she's stabilized, or when Perceptor has the scan results, whichever comes first. I want him to be on the alert for any hollows or obvious energy nodes."

"Understood," Ratchet nodded. "I did get the warning to clear out when her vitals stabilize enough that she might come around," he added. "Until then, I'll be here."

* * *

"Jazz," Caurun caught the head of intelligence outside the repair bay three days after Ezara had been put in the energon bath. "How's she doing?"

"Physically, sh' seems ta' be largely whole again," he said, still trying to get used to watching a body form. "She's still consuming energy at 'n incredible rate."

"Within the parameters I gave?" he asked, honestly very curious.

"At t'a high end, but yeah. Y'want somethin' more 'n an update," Jazz told him.

"I heard that Skywarp came to you because he believes that she trusts you, at least a little. She should be conscious enough to support a contact link," Caurun explained a little uneasily. "You'd have a couple weeks to work on her before she's mobile if you start now, maybe longer. Just think about it," he added at Jazz's skeptical look. "I'm sure Ratchet or Perceptor can tell you when it's safe for her."

"I'll consider it," Jazz agreed, watching as Caurun left before opening the door to the repair bay. "Ratchet, gotta question fr'u. Think she's up for'a link?"

"If you are _damn_ careful," he glared at the Autobot head of intelligence. "She's not some Diceptigoon for you to crack open. She's a deep trauma survivor that's been through Soundwave hell and Primus knows what else."

"Ratchet, I _know_," Jazz spoke with unusual seriousness. "I've b'n in 'er head before, remember? I'll be careful."

The medic regarded him for a long moment, and the gages hooked up to record his patient's status.

"Might be good for her, to have a friend she knows when she wakes up," Ratchet reluctantly agreed. "No going into her processors alone," he insisted. "_Always_ have someone out here, to pull you away if she crashes."

"Agreed," Jazz nodded and turned to kneel next to the tank. He dangled one hand into the energon she was just barely floating in, touched her forehead and cautiously extended his awareness into her mindspace.

As he half expected, she's wasn't awake, but she didn't reject his presence either, for all her shielding kept him out of anywhere deeper than the surface.

"I'll come back in six cycles," he called out to her before backing out.

"How is she?" Ratchet asked as soon as Jazz moved to stand.

"Asleep, dream'n some. I told her I'd be back in six cycles. Hopefully she'll be awake enough then to greet me," Jake explained as he licked the liquid energon from his hand.

"All right," Ratchet nodded and returned to monitoring her and watching in wonder as energy and metal blocks were converted into a new body by nothing more than nanites and inherent repair programming.

* * *

"Hello, Ezara," Jazz spoke softly as he skirted the outside of her mind, waiting for an invitation to go further in, or at least an indication she was coherent enough to understand he was there.

"Jazz," she murmured. "You're Jazz," she said more clearly as her mind came up and she began to form a mindscape for them to interact in. "I'm not supposed to talk to you."

"It's gonna be all right," he tried to sooth her, keeping his bot body to match that she was in hers as a world-city rose around them. "You're safe."

"Where am I?" she asked warily, trying to access her physical sensors with little success.

"In an energon bath on board the Ark," he explained and approached her close enough to touch. "You've been in it for almost four decacycles, and you'll be in it for many more."

That seemed to jog her memory, and the fiery maelstrom that erupted in the sky above them spoke volumes of her native temperament.

"Starscream," she growled darkly. "How did I end up here?" she demanded.

"Skywarp brought you here," Jazz told her, watching in fascination as the storm cooled almost as quickly as it had erupted.

"Sky," she murmured, dropping into a chair as the view changed to her quarters and the storm raged outside. "He went back...."

"Yes," Jazz said as he nudged her mind to change her chair to a short couch. He sat down next to her and drew her against him, hoping that he was reading her right. "He wants ya' safe."

"I should have killed that damn Seeker when I had the chance," she grumbled and slumped forward to curl her arms around her knees. "Starscream ... I never thought he'd go that far, not while Megatron was around."

"Do you remember what happened?" Jazz asked gently, a hand on her back to remind her he was there without trying to become too intimate.

"Most, at least," she nodded, then flicked her chin to the right. "Starscream challenged me in the hallway. I beat the rivets out of him three out of four times we've fought, I expected to again. He fought, retreated, fought again. Got me in position. I was in a star. Burned, hurt so much. I heard him laugh. Then nothing. Felt Sky and tried to touch him. Nothing again. Then you."

"He brought you here right after that," Jazz explained. "Nobody else was nearby when he attacked?"

"Don't think so," she flicked her chin up. "Maybe Thundercracker. I was paying more attention to Starscream."

"Then it's possible that the Decepticons think you were destroyed, possibly vaporized in the attack," he told her. "Except for Skywarp. Are you willing to listen to our side of events, compare it to the one Megatron gave you?"

"He didn't talk about it much," she said and leaned back, the couch morphing to accommodate her nearly laying down. "None of them did. I didn't really ask. Go ahead."

"Given what I picked up about you, I'm not surprised," he told her. "There was a time when the Autobots ruled over Cybertron. We held that position for over five mitracycles before the Decepticons rebelled and began a series of surprise attacks that started a civil war that's lasted nearly ten mitracycles back and forth. Eventually they managed to gain the upper hand, with some outside help, which led more or less to what brought us both here to Earth."

Even as she thought about that, Jazz became aware of another mind, one as strong as any he'd encountered, but not anyone he knew, had become active in her mindspace and was listening in.

"What has kept you from destroying them?" she asked, mulling it over.

"Mostly the fact that they had established a strong foothold before we were able to muster our defense," he told her, keenly aware of the other mind, gauging its response. "Most of the non-combatants basically surrendered, not wanting to get involved - it's very difficult to fight a war without the support."

"You must have a very different world," she murmured. "Civvies don't do much of anything for us, except get in the way of where we fight. We built the generators, designed improved bodies, drive the science. All they do is provide the occasional recruit."

"Cybertron's military and its civilian population, historically, have been closely intertwined," Jazz explained, working around the truth that the conversation with Caurun had suggested would be less effective, stifling his reaction to the idea that civilians just got in the way of battlefields. "The military has always had its infrastructure, but the civilian population has done a lot to support it. Another factor is that we'd been watching for outside aggressors, rather than internal ones. Cybertron's golden age followed a long period under the rule of outsiders; we'd never had a civil war of that sort before, so we weren't watching for something like that to happen. Weapons meant to shoot down star cruisers aren't very good for firing into cities."

"No," she chuckled at the half formed mental image of that problem. "We've had very different histories then. Lydrom has never seen an alien, at least not by my time, much less been conquered by them. We just had ourselves to contend with. What do you think you'd need to take your world back?"

"The defeat of Megatron, Shockwave and Starscream would be the biggest parts," Jazz told her. "Those three, particularly Megatron, are the linchpins of their faction. Without them, the Decepticons would fracture and cease to be a viable threat. Defeating them ... a way to keep them from retreating when we had the upper hand, and enough firepower to take them down."

"Escape being the greatest difficulty, since they are far faster than you," she guessed.

"Speed, and the fact that Megatron is willing to endanger far more lives to get away than we are willing to sacrifice to capture him. You weren't there to see it, but in escaping Three Mile Island, he used a tactic that could have poisoned or killed millions of humans if we hadn't stopped it."

"Why do you care?" she looked at him, honestly at a loss. "They aren't even good eating."

"They're still people, and intelligent ones," Jazz pointed out. "Living people have value, mechanical or organic. Would you go slaughtering the Lydrom without a thought, for no particular reason besides they were in your way?"

"No," she admitted, still trying to wrap her processors around the idea that such small creatures could be intelligent enough to be classified as people. "But they're so small. How can something that small be smart enough to be a person?"

"They've got pretty big brains for their size," Jazz told her. "Would animals build the sort of technology they use? They invented the lot of it, from the tankers you've been raiding to the jets the Decepticons are modeled after. The ship you helped free was an anomaly."

Ezara turned her head to look at him, sharp optics piecing right threw him.

"You're serious," she finally said, her tone somewhere between shock and amazement. "You really believe they built all that."

"Once you're awake, you can watch them do it," Jazz told her. "Wheeljack and Sparkplug work pretty closely with each other these days. The whole planet's pretty small, when you look at its scale compared to us - larger would have problems surviving as bipeds. Something the size of your Lydrom would probably collapse under their own weight with the build they have, and Earth's gravity."

Ezara looked at him quizzically. "It's still hard to believe anything with a brain that size can be that smart," she said. "But if you want me to call them people, I can."

"Well, you'll find fairly soon that that's what they are," he pointed out. "It might be hard to believe, but it's the simple fact of the matter. For what it's worth, some of _them_ tend to think the way you do - that they only could have developed with somebody else pushing them along. But there's no real evidence of it yet."

She nodded, still mulling it over.

"What will Optimus Prime want?" she asked eventually.

"For the help we've given you already? That's only what we'd do for anybody who needed help," Jazz said honestly. "Really, if you'll agree to not rip Ratchet or Prowl apart, and maybe help us against the Decepticons, we're willing to help you as much as we can. Do you _want_ our help against the one who's hunting you?"

Jazz couldn't help but be privately surprised that she didn't seem to have a problem believing him.

"Yes," she answered him, though she wasn't completely easy with it. "Starscream is _mine_ though."

"You're the only one of us with a real grudge against him," Jazz told her. "When you come around, you'll have to ask Prime for asylum. He'll have to hear about what you can remember about the situation that led to your being on the run... have you recovered any of it?"

"Yes," she admitted, even more uneasy with the statement.

He could feel the shame she was trying to keep in check wash over her, though not the actual source of it yet.

"Most of it, I believe," she added quietly as she curled her knees to her chest and began to close her mind. "I remember what I was. What I did to be here."

"You don't have to be ashamed," he told her, fighting to maintain the link as she tried closing it off. "We're willing to hear your side of it. I'm willing to see it myself, go into your memories and see what happened that you can show me. Prime knows what war is like," he promised. "Probably better than you do."

He could feel how torn she was as the pressure to leave lessened some. She wanted to stop this conversation, to push the pain away and burry it again. At the same time, she wanted, desperately wanted, to have someone tell her that what she'd done wasn't as horrible as she thought it was.

He knew a moment before she spoke what the answer was.

"Later," she murmured before making a conscious effort to close the link. A move that gave him a choice between leaving, or forcing himself on her.

With a prisoner, he'd have no qualms. He was fairly sure he could keep her security interlocks open if he tried. But she wasn't a prisoner, so he backed off.

"How'd it go?" Ratchet asked when Jazz began to move again.

"She won't kill you, and Caurun might have a willing prisoner," Jazz explained briefly. "She's torn up about whatever it is she remembers now. She needs to have somebody go in there and look at it, but I wasn't going to force her."

"That's a plus. Did she give an indication on who should look?" he asked, mulling it over. "Or what happened?"

"Whatever it was, she feels horrible about it now that she remembers," he told Ratchet. "I'd say either me, or Prime, at this point. She trusts me, and he can tell her how much of it was acceptable from a war standpoint. This doesn't end our little problem about what to do with her, but at least she knows it herself, now."

"That's an improvement," Ratchet nodded. "Go spend some time with Mirage. Looks like you could use it."

"Not like Blaster's," Jazz said softly as he left.

"I know, old friend," Ratchet put a hand on Jazz's shoulder. "Most of us left who we need most behind."


	2. Cultural Exchange

_Fandom_: Transformers G1 season 1 + The Ultimate Guide  
_Timing_: Pre-"War of the Dinobots"  
_Pairing_: None  
_Rating_: PG  
_Codes_: None

_Summary_: Perceptor's review of Ezara's scans soon becomes the best review of Lydrom's leaders that Caurun can provide.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home 15: Cultural Exchange**

* * *

"Optimus Prime, I have the results you asked for," Perceptor said when he found his leader in his office almost a week after they had taken Ezara Starshine into 'custody'.

"Good," he nodded. "How informative has it been?"

"Extremely, in my opinion," Perceptor said as he sat down and handed a datapad with the results on it. "While she does not have a single physical device that I can detect that might correlate to a Matrix of Leadership, at least as we understand it, there is definitely power there that is not entirely hers. Do keep in mind that they do not have a Spark chamber or central engine or energy reservoir that I can recognize either."

Optimus Prime raised his hand. "I want Jazz and Prowl to hear this," he said and summoned them.

"Yes, Sir," Perceptor nodded slightly and waited for the pair while Optimus Prime read over his report.

"You believe that it's not one device, but several?" Optimus Prime raised an eye ridge when his second in command and head of intelligence joined them and shut the door.

"Yes, Sir," Perceptor nodded as the report was passed to Prowl and Jazz.

"It'd fit with what I've seen 'n learned from her," Jazz said. "Though I have nada to confirm or deny it."

"But how would that work?" Prowl frowned slightly. "Why multiple devices?"

"I believe it is in part a function of the Tezitan design, and in part an issue of technology," Perceptor said. "We still do not understand how the Matrix of Leadership actually works. With Caurun's assistance, I have come to understand the Tezitan design theory much better. It is significantly different from Cybertron's, though I do believe the base technology for both worlds was the same roughly twenty mitracycles ago. They have diverged significantly in that time."

"Not a particular surprise," Prowl said. "That is a long time with no contact to synch ideas."

"Yes. Their founding principle of design seems to be decentralization and redundancy in everything of importance," Perceptor continued. "Power, memory, processors, code ... they are designed to take an incredible amount of damage without lasting harm, and without hindering their performance significantly until well after a comparable Cybertronian design would have been destroyed."

"Do you have any idea what her Matrix-like energy nodes contain?" Optimus Prime asked as he mulled over what he'd been told.

"No," Perceptor shook his head.

"I do," Jazz spoke up. "I believe at least one's her predecessor. There's a very powerful, strong willed mind in there with her. Male. Watching, no talkin'."

"Could it be Soundwave?" Optimus Prime focused on him. "He did have her for too long."

"I'd know that sig _anywhere_, Prime," Jazz said with certainty. "Don't know who it is, 'cept it's not anyone I know."

"With five nodes, there are likely at least five of them," Perceptor said. "It is entirely probable that all eighteen previous First Commandants are there to some extent."

"I'll ask when she lets me in again," Jazz said simply. "Been aware of'm for a while now. Nothin' came forward 'nuf to talk, just watching."

"Be careful," Optimus Prime cautioned him. "Perhaps ask Caurun who they are first?"

"That might be a conversation for all of us to listen to, Prime," Prowl suggested. "Knowing her heritage could be valuable in understanding her likely reactions beyond when she wakes up."

"Agreed," Optimus Prime nodded. "Jazz, would you fetch him?"

"Right away, Boss Bot," he nodded and took off.

"I know some basics," Caurun flicked his chin up when the door closed behind him. "Mostly by reputation," he cautioned them of the quality of the intel he had to provide.

"Understood," Optimus Prime nodded his understanding. "Have a seat. Please begin with her predecessor and work back."

"All right," Caurun said as he organized the data. "Carin Rawlind of the Vistra was her predecessor. He was a scientist before he was First Commandant, and he was the first to try and choose who replaced him, at least publicly. Very calm and calculating as far as First Commandants go. He made my life a lot easier, overall. Very much into keeping order and being logical about things. Get the info, double-check it, and only then act. He couldn't have chosen someone more different in Starshine. Well, at least not anyone sane."

"I'm sure he was the one I noticed," Jazz said. "It fits the impressions of his mind spot on."

Caurun tried not to show badly unsettled he was by the statement as he went on. "Before him were Wimash Pyre of the Rendrin, Quin Parenteen of the Karpai and Paulla Sandrcrest of the Epora. I don't have much on any of them, for all they were the ones I lived under," he admitted. "Which means they were effective, but didn't do much of interest to a civvie. Sandrcrest's main contribution was taking her predecessor, Stormfire of the Demine, out relatively fast. I think it's safe to say he was a sociopath of the highest order," Caurun shuddered. "By all accounts I was lucky I didn't have to survive his rule."

"No wonder Paulla took him out quickly," Prime mused. "Not an issue we've ever had to deal with, internally."

"It's the only time we have," Caurun said. "At least from what I know. That could just mean all the others kept their insanity confined to their own kind and left civvies alone."

"You keep talking about the military and civilian mechs as though they're practically different species - are they really so separate?" Optimus asked him.

"We try our best to keep it that way," Caurun said. "It's a matter of survival. Military rarely see their second mitracycle. A civvie can see several; some are even older than you are. You do that by staying as far from the fighting as you can. The military I've talked to _like_ their lives short, fast and violent. Fight hard, play harder, die young is something I heard far too much of around them."

"A very different breed from our military, but that sounds fairly typical... and a world that has so many brutal wars would see it more often," Optimus Prime tried not to sigh.

"That's Lydrom for you," Caurun flicked his chin up. "We stay out of their way, they generally avoid us, so the damage is largely limited to them. The wars are short, though, with long periods of peace in between, unlike yours."

"There is that," Optimus granted. "I am planning on going into her mind to see what she remembers of the war. From what we have discovered, her recall is sufficient to make some manner of judgment regarding her actions."

"I hope it is informative for you," Caurun said.

"So who else is in there?" Jazz got things back to the original topic.

"Qucksilver Flash of the Nilark won, and lost, her place by speed," Caurun continued. "By the account I heard, she took down Berin Lodin of the Molish not because she was stronger or more deadly, but because she could do a little damage with each hit while he couldn't hit her. He bled to death."

"Sounds like Blurr," Jazz couldn't help but chuckle.

Caurun gave him a look and extended his hand. Without hesitating, Jazz placed his hand on Caurun's to exchange memories of the most appropriately named Cybertronian of all time by many an estimate.

"I'm amazing no one's shot him yet," Caurun couldn't help but laugh. "That mech is _crazy_."

"None can _hit_ him," Jazz quirked a grin. "Plenty have tried."

"I believe it," Caurun continued to chuckle. "Lodin replaced Mirinanx Dilviar of the Ratrith, who replaced Ice of the Kanix."

"Ice, huh?" Jazz cocked his head. "Odd name for a leader."

"It was his talent, his special power," Caurun explained. "He could freeze things, much like Starscream's nullifier, but not nearly so short-lived. He replaced Black Star Rising of the Night's Chosen, who defeated the longest-lived modern First Commandant, Singer. I still don't understand how a crystal shaper became a war-leader, but she defeated two rebellions before Black Star Rising managed to kill her."

"Given what your people can do with crystals, I'm not _that_ surprised," Jazz offered. "I saw some images in her mind before I left - I don't think those weapons were decorative."

"They aren't," Caurun flicked his chin up. "Neither is the armor or shields, both of which can stop my rail gun cold."

"What else do you do with crystals?" Optimus Prime asked.

"Just about everything," he said. "Buildings, energy conduits, ships ... we use it much like you use metal."

"It does help to explain why an expert shaper would be such a formidable warrior," Optimus mused. "Just ask Wheeljack about craftsbots using their own weapons," he chuckled lowly.

"I can imagine," Caurun flicked his chin up. "Always a trick or two no one else knows. I'm not a master, but anyone in a job as specialized as mine tends to make half their own equipment."

"Out of necessity, as much as anything else, I'm sure," Prowl agreed. "Do you have any more details?"

"Singer was also unique in that she ruled alone," Caurun said. "Besides her, only the first First Commandant, Delta Six, did so. He did so because he formed our first world government. She did so because she could, she understood both sides well enough to function in both roles. If Lydrom had a Golden Age, it was Singer's reign.

"She took over from Listin Gray of the Vaytash, who defeated Tander of the Usandris. Before him was Mitrix Alitron of Unity. She's one civvies know a lot about," Caurun continued, a hint in his voice that unlike so many of these military leaders, this one he respected a great deal. "Like Rawlind, she was a scientist before she was First Commandant. Unlike him, her specialty was engineering. She made Lydrom what it is today, both before and after she was First Commandant. Her greatest contribution was designing and implementing the energy generation network."

"Wait," Optimus Prime lifted his hand. "Tell us about it."

"I don't know much," he hesitated. "Satellites gather energy in space, and transmit it to distribution plants around Lydrom. Those route energy to substations, which route it throughout a district."

"And Mitrix Alitron, who designed and implemented this system, should be in Ezara's mind?" Optimus looked between Jazz and Caurun.

"If Rawlind is, she's likely in there too," Jazz nodded.

"If you're right, so's Stormfire," Caurun pointed out unhappily. "If you think she was difficult to fight, think about facing someone as crazy as Megatron, with no fear of death, in her body."

"Still," Optimus Prime said. "If Alitron's intact...."

"If she's intact, so is the greatest psychopath in Lydrom history," Caurun repeated. "So are some of the most vicious killers and megalomaniacs we've ever produced. Some of the First Commandants you'd get along great with. Some were like Singer and Alitron. Some would scare the Spark out of Megatron, assuming they didn't rip it out of him for the fun of watching the Decepticons scatter."

"There is also no way to _change_ that fact," Optimus pointed out. "Not that we are aware of. If there was, I'm sure another First Commandant would have already. We will just have to have guidance to locate them."

"The only person who might be able to do that is in your repair bay," Caurun settled, though he was still fidgety and uneasy. "Alpha is another one to be careful of. He's probably not as crazy, but he _is_ power hungry, and he's good at getting it by the records I've seen. Nildrin of the Vigath and Tyris ... I don't know much about either of them, other than their names and that they pre-date modern society. Delta Six, he was around before the Lydrom died off and was built by them. I'm not even going to try to understand what his programming might look like."

"Thank you for the information, and your concerns," Optimus Prime said. "We will be careful," he promised before dismissing the alien.

"Caurun, why is it so difficult to believe that humans are an intelligent species, that they're people?" Jazz asked.

"Size," he said simply as he stood. "Maybe your human friends can explain it better. Ask them how easy it would be to believe a raccoon was smart enough to be a person like they are.

"Somewhat random, but some advice for when she wakes up," Caurun looked at Optimus Prime as a thought occurred to him. "I'm the first to admit that I know very little about military bots. I do know one thing though, something every civvie learns early and well if they want to survive. You do not touch one without a clear invitation," he said as seriously as he could. "You can use touch to enter another's mind. So do we. For them, it's an attack unless they invite you to. I don't know how much of that will be in her when she wakes up, but the more she heals, the more that training should come out. The memories that are passed on to demonstrate the typical reaction are ... messy."

"Understood," he nodded. "I will see that everyone knows not to touch her."

Caurun flicked his chin to the right and left the leaders to their discussion of Ezara's fate, and by extension, his own.


	3. Calling Out the Toe'Emirc

_Fandom_: Transformers G1 season 1 + The Ultimate Guide  
_Timing_: Pre-"War of the Dinobots"  
_Pairing_: Jazz/Ezara  
_Rating_: NC-17 for M/F  
_Codes_: Het

_Summary_: Jazz is allowed into Ezara's mind again, and gets more than he bargained for.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home 16: Calling Out the Toe'Emirc**

* * *

Jazz slipped into Ezara's mind-space, aware she was resting, but not fully asleep. Whatever she'd been thinking over for the past couple decacycles was apparently settled, since the Prime-grade security locks on her mind had undone enough to let him in.

He wanted to clean his optics to make sure he was seeing right when her crystal quarters solidified around him. Ezara was resting in her bed in her bio-form, but there was another with her, a strongly-build black male Lydrom with purple hands and forearms. Even without recognizing the bio-form, the identity of the male was clear enough: Skywarp.

"Just a memory," she told him absently and caused her bedmate to disappear.

"A pleasant one, I hope," he smiled and sat down next to her, adjusting his own form to a human one, though he kept his size comparable to hers, rather than half her height that would be strictly accurate.

"Yes," she said a bit sadly. "I wish he hadn't left."

"He did this for you," Jazz caressed her cheek, causing her to look up at him. "He might just change sides for you."

"Not if he's smart," she said, then snickered a bit. "Okay, not if he has any survival instincts in him."

"What makes you say that?" Jazz let his fingers slide down her neck, then along her shoulder. He could feel her hunger; she must be feeling better for desire to come back on line so strongly.

"He's damn near immortal," Ezara said with a shrug, her eyes wandering along his body with open intent. "Even if I survive until I burn out, I won't see a mitracycle. We live fast, die young and don't regret the choice."

"Do you really die?" Jazz asked, willingly letting himself be drawn to lay on the bed next to her. "Or do you join your predecessors to strengthen your successor?"

"That isn't living," she shuddered before distracting herself by kissing him. "Power comes with a price, and being stuck in limbo, watching others live until the Tezita are no more, is the price for my power."

"Why would you burn out so fast?" Jazz asked as he stroked her body, trying to encourage her to keep talking.

"Bodies aren't intended to hold this much power," she made a happy sound at his efforts and pressed him to his back before straddling his hips with her short tail out of the way. "Not even Singer could do it, though she outlasted most of us," she murmured and leaned forward to kiss him, her hands spread on his chest. "Enjoy life, Jazz," she murmured, shifting her hips when his hands encouraged her to, and moaned deeply when he pressed himself into her slick body. "Long or short, brutal or sedate, it's all we get."

"Ya got that right," he groaned as pleasure coursed through his systems. He did his best to give her the same, kissing her and fondling her breasts while he thrust. "Somethin' the matter?" he asked around a kiss when he felt her holding herself back.

"Mmm, I can't afford the energy," she bit back a moan.

"I won't take it," he promised as he let his own self-control slide, to at least give what he'd get if he couldn't reroute and return her energy to her. The surprise on her face was unsettling, for all he knew he shouldn't be surprised at it. "Relax, enjoy," he kissed her again as he felt her respond more fully. "Ya only live once."

Jazz was peripherally aware of two minds on the outskirts of his presence. He was sure one was Carin Rawlind, and suspected the other was another First Commandant before all thought was washed away by their pleasure.

Panting, he held Ezara still against him. She'd ended with more energy than she's started with, yet she was only barely conscious.

"Sleep, my youngling," a deep, calm male voice focused Jazz's attention above them as her form disappeared.

"First Commandant Carin Rawlind of the Vistra," Jazz asked as he sat up and found himself standing in his base form in the office of a decorated war veteran, a very rich, powerful one, given the wood and fabric that was everywhere.

"Good guess, and Rawlind will do," the male flicked his chin to the right. "This is Toe'Emirc Mitrix Alitron of Eti," he indicated a femme with a much more biologically-inspired form than Ezara's, though there were definite similarities in design as well. It was easy to believe that she predated Ezara by several generations.

"Mitrix will do. We are not here on formalities," she added. "You are Jazz of the Autobots. You have quite an open mind for an interrogator."

"Sometimes it's the best way to get what you want - 'specially when that's trust," he offered. "I'm intel, but that's not all I do. You have something you want to talk over?"

"Yes, though we are here to offer to answers as well," Rawlind said as he walked over to a finely crafted wooden cabinet to pour a shimmering deep blue liquid energy into three crystal glasses. "My private blend, though you won't feel the effects. Habits from life do not fade easily."

"I would speak with your Optimus Prime before this body finishes repairing itself," Mitrix said as she sat in one of three plush chairs and motioned for Jazz to seat himself. "Some things we must discuss Ezara is not mature enough to have the final say in."

It wasn't lost to Jazz that her relatively formal phrasing had more to do with translating across multiple languages than her actual mindset.

"She does seem young and impulsive, but given what I've heard, I'm not too surprised ... what about what she said, about a body not being designed to hold that much power for long?" Jazz asked her, taking a seat himself and accepted a glasses with a grateful nod to Rawlind.

"That has always been the issue," Mitrix flicked her chin up and accepted a glass for herself before Rawlind sat down as well. "Singer and I lasted the longest, because of our skills, but life expectancy for a Toe'Emirc is still short by its very nature."

"Not that many of our warriors notice," Rawlind added. "They rarely live much longer than we do, by their choosing rather than burning out."

"It explains why you picked somebody so young though," Jazz pointed out. "Why don't we start with what you wanted to ask about, while we're here? Or would you rather I get Prime in here too?"

"In a moment," Rawlind spoke up. "Do you have anyone special to you?"

"Yeah, but he's not here," Jazz explained. "Not yet, at any rate. Blaster's with the resistance back home. We're not exclusive though, if you're worried I'm just using Ezara as part of the job."

"I'm more concerned of her reaction to the competition, and to being drawing in two directions," Rawlind said evenly. "She's more than just young, she's alone. The warrior needs to be balanced, reminded there is more to life than the fight. She had not found that individual when I died, and she is well into the desperate stage of looking now. You are a better choice than Skywarp, for all she likes him more, but it is not something either of you are particularly suited for."

"He is trying to warn you," Mitrix spoke up, her tone gentle for all she was very serious. "She could react _very_ badly to perceived competition if she becomes too attached to you. It would not be in Lydrom or Cybertron's best interests for you to bond with her. She is strong enough to force it, if she chose to."

"I'll try to keep her from thinking there is one," Jazz promised them. "I'm not looking to give her any ideas there's something else there."

"Good," Rawlind flicked his chin in. "Did you have any questions before you bring your leader into this meeting?"

"Is there a way to control which ones of you end up 'waking up'?" Jazz asked them. "We understand there are some pretty bad customers deeper down in there."

"For you, there isn't," Rawlind said simply. "For us, yes. The active Toe'Emirc can call one of us. For what I just did, putting her in stasis while we are here, it requires at least a majority agreement among us and some cooperation by her."

"Stormfire of the Demine will never wake up," Mitrix added in a fierce promise. "Not while Singer and I vote."

"Yes, if Singer does not want someone awake, they don't wake up," Rawlind flicked his chin up in agreement. "He's been locked in deep stasis since he fell to Paulla. _We_ don't want to listen to his ranting. While he was Toe'Emirc was quite enough for eternity as far as most of us are concerned."

"Thank's," Jazz agreed. "Will Ezara be aware of any of the other questions I might ask you?"

"That is the option of whoever is having the conversation," Rawlind explained. "While it is not a common practice, we can keep things from each other to a great extent. She is not aware now, but she will be able to review what happened. There is something you would rather she did not know yet?"

"That I would rather she not know _fully_," Jazz nodded. "The one who is trying to take her back to Lydrom is here, but she's under our protection. We will not allow him to take her until after Prime has made his decision regarding her asylum request, and if we grant it, we won't let him take her then either."

"That is definitely something she should not know yet," Rawlind agreed. "You intend to tell her after she has repaired?"

"After she understands that we won't let her be harmed," Jazz nodded. "We're trying to avoid blind panic and flight, not to keep a secret from her for the sake of it."

"What will happen if Prime decides against her?" Mitrix asked levelly.

"That will be a decision for Prime to make, but he's not going to do it based purely on the say-so of the people who took over Lydrom," Jazz told them. "He has his suspicions about the charges they've made against her, that she's done anything that extreme... she'd be capable of it, but I don't think she actually did it either, but she hasn't let anybody in to see what she remembers yet."

"I probably remember more than she does, at the moment," Rawlind said. "I was awake for it, and giving advice. What are the charges, if you've heard them?"

Jazz took a moment to form a data packet, putting it in the form of a tablet and handing it over with all the details he could remember.

"Except for executing a city, it looks like a typical inflation of charges," Rawlind said after considering it, then passed it to Mitrix for her opinion. "That was ordered, though it was not part of the war. A virus infected the district and had to be eliminated when containment and cure failed."

"There is evidence of the virus? Was it known to the opposition?" Jazz asked, considering the implications, and what this would mean. He knew Prime wouldn't want to interfere if she was going to get a _fair_ trial, but that 'fair' part was going to be the tricky one.

"There was evidence when we left," He flicked his chin to the right. "It was known to the general population. As the Dysonic district was also a center of rebel activity, they may not believe it was real, or believe that we infected the area because they were there, to give us an excuse. I don't think she grasps that we don't need an excuse."

"Did she know that the virus _was_ a real situation?" Jazz asked. That'd explain her reaction earlier, if she wasn't sure.

"Yes," Rawlind said firmly. "I'm not sure she always believes the intel she gets, but she knew why she gave that order, and we did back her choice."

"I don't doubt you," Jazz promised. "But earlier, she sounded like she was hating herself over _something_ she did. If she wasn't sure, it'd been an explanation."

"That...." Rawlind sighed. "I regret having to do that to her. What upset her is that she ran, abandoned her troops and her post. Well, _she_ didn't, but it doesn't make much difference to her right now who was in charge at that moment. Eventually she'll put enough together to realize what I did."

"What happened, that you had her retreat without her troops?" Jazz asked, surprised to hear that _that_ was the reason. "The final battle?" He asked, offering the only thing he could think of.

"The last big one," he flicked his chin up, not hiding how unsettled the choice still left him. "If she'd stayed, she'd have lost the challenge. She wasn't ready for that fight. I had to buy enough time for the rest of my plans to be put in place. Fortunately it didn't take much, once she was damaged and on the run, to keep her moving. It is part of why I chose her, rather than one of my officers."

"I think it might be time for Prime to be here," Jazz said quietly as be absorbed this information. Of all the things he expected to find out, thought could have happened, this was not on the list.

"Agreed," Rawlind flicked his chin up. "We will be here."

Jazz nodded to them and withdrew, standing just a little shaky.

"You okay?" Ratchet was on him in a trillocycle.

"Yes, just ... that was one wild conversation," Jazz shook his head and stood steady. "I'm fine, man. Where's Prime?"

"In his office, I think," Ratchet looked at him. "Is this anything I should be worried about?"

"If it is, it's nothin' you can do anything about," Jazz shook his head and walked out, heading for Optimus Prime's office. "Prime," he said as the door opened for him. "Apparently we just walked into the middle of something big."

"Have a seat," Optimus Prime motioned to him. "And shut the door."

"Right, Prime," Jazz nodded and locked the door before he sat down across from Optimus Prime. "The proper title for a First Commandant is Toe'Emirc, and Mitrix Alitron is of the Eti. I've gathered that when the meaning translates to a real word, it was. They didn't take offence to the mistake."

"Good things to know," Optimus Prime regarded him, and the glowing pink energon still dripping from his right hand. "What happened that you didn't even clean up?"

"Toe'Emircs Carin Rawlind and Mitrix Alitron are up, and wan'a talk to you," Jazz summed it up. "They've already dropped a couple bombshells. The big one was that her predecessors are not only fully intact, but interactive and calling some shots. It turns out one'a th' shots Rawlind called was to have her abandon her troops and post just before she went on the run. She remembered she ran from the battle and it's eating her up. She locked me out for two decacycles over it. She doesn't know why she ran yet."

"Has he tried to explain it to her?" Prime asked with a frown.

"I dunno," Jazz admitted. "Since they wanted to talk to y' anyway, I thought it best to have y' join in before I asked any more questions. It was gettin' heavy in a hurry."

"If you're up for it, we can go now," Prime nodded, standing to follow him in. "If not, I can go in on my own."

"I'm A-okay, Prime," Jazz assured him, standing to walk with him to the repair bay where Ezara was soaking in her energon bath with more than half the metal placed in with her absorbed into her nearly-complete body.

They knelt, one of each side of the tank, and reached in to touch her face.

Optimus Prime took a brief moment to assess the fine crafting and luxurious office he found himself in. Paneled in polished wood, with a marble floor and thick fabric on the large windows that sparkled with the lightly of the world-city beyond it. The dark wood desk was as grand as the powerful Tezita male seated behind it. There were even plants, two large trees, beyond the desk.

The mech sitting at the desk was Rawlind. Mitrix was standing his to him with one hand on his shoulder and leaning forward to read whatever was on the holoscreen in front of them. She had the same kind of power, but less of a militant bearing.

Ezara's previously plain metal skin was now brightly painted. Four insignia were down the center of her chest, a fifth on each shoulder and was decorated as a war-hero in her own right. Despite that, she was sitting in one of the five plush chairs, nursing a steaming mug of something and stewing angrily over something.

"That did not take long," Rawlind said as he stood to greet the Autobots. "Welcome to the Toe'Emirc's office. Please have a seat," he motioned to the chairs around Ezara's.

She flicked her gaze up, the angry storm behind her optics impossible to hide here, but she stood and went to the intricately carved wooden energon cabinet and poured three drinks of the blue kind Jazz had been offered before, one of pink and added a solid pour of black energon to her mug while she was at it.

"Thank you for having us," Prime said, taking a seat politely and watching the interactions between the three leaders of Lydrom's military. "I hope I'm not intruding on anything," he added, more out of respect for the two other military leaders than actually thinking he might have. He was sure they wouldn't have let him in if he was.

"Nothing important," Rawlind assured him as Ezara offered them each a glass, beginning with Optimus Prime, then Jazz, Rawlind and the pink one for Mitrix. "I am sure you have many questions before we ask ours," he offered.

"Several, though most of them can wait for a better time," Prime offered. "The first one is a formality, primarily," he added, turning to Ezara. "Do you formally request asylum, regarding the charges that have been brought against you?"

He realized almost instantly how surprise all three of them were, and just how quickly Ezara and Rawlind reorganized their thoughts to account for it and that Mitrix did not find it a concern either way.

"Yes," Ezara answered from behind her mug.

"No," Rawlind countered her.

"That is _not_ your call," Ezara was on her feet, her rage and rebellion a visible electric and smoke storm that swept back and up in a pair of mechanical feather wings as a firestorm erupted into a howled maelstrom outside the window-wall.

"It is," he stood more slowly; steely determination in the face of youthful fire. "You are not yet Toe'Emirc."

"The hell I'm not," she snarled, taking a step forward. "You're dead."

"Be still," Mitrix spoke softly to both Autobots. "This was inevitable."

"We can leave," Optimus Prime offered, watching with an unsettled fascination as Ezara turned on her mentor with all the blind, holding-nothing-back fury of a caged and cornered animal.

"There is no need," Mitrix said as the scene shifted. The office reformed away from the battle, and altered in appearance. There were more plants, even a few small animals, but for all the technology seemed older, it was also more pervasive and half of it seemed to be in various states of disassembly. It bore more than a slight resemblance to Wheeljack's 'office'. "When you exist with this many others, you are very skilled at building walls that can keep the others out. They will join us when they have worked out who is in charge."

"Do they always settle their arguments this way?" Optimus Prime asked as he tried to focus on the fact that he still had one Toe'Emirc talking to him.

"No, this is the fifth time she has challenged," Mitrix told him. "The first he allowed her win, though she has not realized it yet. The next three he defeated her. This time he will not, though he has not accepted that himself yet.

"She will win because it is her body we are in," she explained to Jazz curious expression. "She is Toe'Emirc. She listens to us more than most did. It does not make her less the Toe'Emirc. We may speak of other things while they fight."

"Why is there any question about whether she is one of the Toe'Emirc or not?" Prime asked, trying to sort out the hierarchy and how it worked. It was so much simpler the way the Matrix worked - they were able to give advice, but there was no question that the Spark that belonged to the body it was in was in charge.

"She never defeated him," Mitrix explained. "There was never a question to her warriors. Nor to the rest of us. Rawlind has been unwilling to acknowledge his death when the cause of it is not here. Her acceptance to follow him has assisted his efforts to continue past his time."

"Likely the reason that he chose a successor, rather than waiting to be taken... is this likely to change things between them?" Prime asked her, still paying attention to the battle and the fluid crashing of two purely energy forms. Combat seemed the standard for earning respect, at least for the military ... very much like the Decepticons, for all that it wasn't motivated quite the same way.

"A great deal," Mitrix flicked her chin to the right. "It will give her a confidence she did not have before, knowledge, power, and his obedience. She will no longer be his student, but the master."

"She'll need that," he nodded. "Whatever happens in the future. Why was he so against the offer of asylum?"

"Would _you_ take asylum?" she looked at Optimus Prime. "She is the rightful leader of Lydrom. His issue is that his plans are in place now. It is time to return. She will be ready."

"A return right now would be in the custody of the one who's spent the last several thousand cycles trying to capture her," Prime pointed out. "As a prisoner, rather than in a position to retake power."

He saw her surprise, and the nearly instant recognition that she had not explained well.

"She will not return with the hunter. She will challenge Koisi, the one who seeks to be Toe'Emirc. He will be forced to come here to fight. When she defeats him, the war will be over. It is as planned."

"I see... that could be difficult to arrange," Prime pointed out. "He might just decide to stay there, and leave her here, unless there's some reason he needs to defeat her more definitely."

"The military will desert him, destroy him, if he refuses the challenge. They can hear the challenge," she tried to explain, knowing she was not doing well. "He calls himself Toe'Emirc, but all know he does not have us inside him. Do not all who see you know you to be Prime, even not knowing you? All Tezita can feel who the Toe'Emirc is, and is not."

"I know little about how the Toe'Emirc work," Prime explained. "Our source for information knew little himself. In our case, the transfer has effects beyond the exchange of personality, which makes it more noticeable. I am interested in learning more about it though," he offered.

"Did he tell you that until Ezara left our galaxy we had not encountered another race?" she began, trying to set a stage for how different their section of space was.

"He did," Prime nodded. "He also explained something else that worries me greatly. If he is challenged, and comes to face her, is there a way to exact a binding agreement not to retaliate for the results? Her hunter has been so dogged because his family has been threatened, if he fails."

"If you acquire her word as the Toe'Emirc, it will bind who wins," Mitrix told him. "We will ensure it. We do not have absolute control. As Stormfire learned, when we are against a Toe'Emirc, they find it difficult to survive. We are bound by law and honor, no matter how savage and undisciplined we may appear to you."

"Is it binding to those who lead outside the military as well?" He asked her. "Or is the Toe'Emirc and the military structure the only leading group?"

It took her a moment to work out what he was asking, and another to figure out the answer to something no one had asked before.

"There is a civilian leader," she spoke carefully, struggling for the words. "Si'Kae ... Spark-bound? ... to the Toe'Emirc. He would not dare."

"Understood, I believe," he nodded. "The Toe'Emirc would know if the oath was broken, and be able to punish them?"

"Most likely, and yes," she flicked her chin to the right. "It would be serious crime, at minimum. Not sanctioned."

"Why did he choose her?" Jazz asked as the battle escalated with Rawlind's realization that he was loosing.

"She is perfect," Mitrix smiled faintly behind her elegant glass. "She is everything we have tried to breed, build and duplicate since I was working under Alpha; absolutely fearless, completely savage, dedicated to her cause and master, capable of leading or following without question. For all the time, energy and lives invested in it, we have never managed to reproduce what chance does in people like her. She is what I described as a beast Spark. Her connection with the biological world that Lydrom once was is incredibly strong."

"Forgive me, but she didn't seem at all fearless when I first met her," Optimus Prime brought up.

"Oh, but she was. A different kind than most think of, I grant you," Mitrix said. "It requires a complete lack of fear to do whatever is required to survive and still be a warrior. When presented with a hopeless situation, there are three reactions I see in warriors.

"There are those who continue the fight, to rush to their death rather than accept defeat. They are driven by pride; unable to accept defeat to fight again.

"There are those who surrender, accept that their side has lost and that survival is more important that whatever they were fighting for. They are the warriors, a majority because of training, who fight under a new Toe'Emirc. They are dedicated, but they value life over victory when given a choice.

"Then there are those like Ezara. She will fight and die without question or regret. When presented with a situation where battle is not an option, she will run, hide, submit, beg, bribe, or anything else it takes to make the situation change to her favor. Unlike those who surrender, her kind will never stop working towards her goal, even when it looks like they have."

"What _is_ her attraction to Skywarp?" Jazz asked. "Still seems an odd pairing, but it feels genuine."

"He's pretty, likes to play just rough enough and had no idea what he was doing when they met," Mitrix chuckled. "It is rare for someone like her to meet a warrior who's never had a lover before."

"Is she likely to return to him?" Optimus Prime asked.

"No. She will surely invite him to join her. I do hope he remains with his own kind." Mitrix said, though she didn't sound quite as certain as she could have. "Whether he joins her here or not, if she does not continue to see him while she is on Earth, I am surprised," she paused to watch the battle raging on the other side of the mental shields. "I expect she will try to create a youngling with him before her battle with Ryzia Koisi, the poser that is ruling Lydrom."

"How long does that process take, and what exactly is involved?" Prime asked. "The short version," he added, realizing it might be involved.

"It requires a ... nanocycle ... three, at most, to acquire his portion. Cooperation is helpful but not required. Most take several decacycles; enjoy the process. A body suitable for the new Spark. Three to ten nanocycles to join Spark to body."

"It may not be entirely possible; I have no idea if our Sparks and yours would be capable of joining in that way," Optimus warned her. "It seems that we're different on many levels, and that may prove to be one of them."

"That is why I said she would try," Mitrix said, watching dispassionately as Rawlind's energy began to fade rapidly. "I agree. There is a fifty-three percent probability of failure. She will finish with Rawlind soon. You may need to leave while she integrates fully."

"I understand," he nodded. "How long before we should attempt contact again?"

"When she stands," Mitrix told him. "It will not take long."


	4. Waking Whole

_Fandom_: Transformers G1 season 1 + The Ultimate Guide  
_Timing_: Pre-"War of the Dinobots"  
_Pairing_: Skywarp/Ezara, Jazz/Ezara  
_Rating_: NC-17 for M/F  
_Codes_: Het

_Summary_: After more than a week in the energon bath, Ezara is ready to get up, but which side will she choose?

* * *

**Wanderer's Home 17: Waking Whole**

* * *

Ezara waited until she was alone and the room was dark. She knew they were aware she was largely cognizant and ready to stand, and wouldn't have left if Jazz hadn't shooed everyone away. She'd have to thank him.

For now, she had the single largest change in her form to make sure worked. Fingers, toes, facial motors ... all worked. She sat up slowly, a slight tremor passing through her frame as she left the pure liquid energy she had been submerged in for decacycles. She'd miss that sensation. She'd have a new indulgence when she got home in ten or eleven metacycles.

Every servo and processor seemed to be in working order as she stood, then stepped out of the bath, testing her balance and coordination with each careful move as she made a step-by-step progression through five katas, starting with the simple and advancing through the complex, chosen to test her reflexes, strength, balance and transformations.

* * *

"What is she doing in there?" Ratchet fidgeted on the other side of the door, not the least bit happy to leave his patient unattended in a dark repair bay.

"Testin' 'er body," Jazz told him.

"She didn't have to have us leave for _that_," Ratchet said grumpily.

"No, but if it doesn't work as she expects, this will save her a little dignity," Optimus Prime told him. "Something she has had precious little off."

"You nailed it, Prime," Jazz nodded before looking at Ratchet. "Even though she's not an enemy anymore, she's not exactly a friend. A little space goes a long way to makin' friends."

"Prime, Megatron is approaching, alone," Prowl warned over the comm-link. "He's demanded a meeting."

"Then I will meet him," Optimus Prime responded as he turned to walk to the entrance of the volcano base the Ark had become. "Jazz, keep an audio receptor on her. Make sure Skywarp doesn't snatch her."

"Yessir," he nodded, not quite ready to intrude on a jumpy warrior in combat practice, but ready to move if he heard her talking, or the sound of engines.

"Are you sure about this?" Prowl asked as he fell in to step next to his leader. "Talking to Megatron?"

"If he is at all interested in talking, I have to try," Optimus Prime told him. "It's an improvement on shooting first."

"If you say so," Prowl consented as they stepped out into the star-lit badlands.

"Megatron!" Optimus called out to the approaching Decepticon. "Land and we'll talk."

"I knew you would," Megatron's voice came out of the darkness as he landed in the pool of light outside the Ark. "You have something of mine. I want it back."

"Ezara is not a thing, Megatron," Optimus Prime eyed him. "It is her choice to return to you or not."

"Of course it is," he replied smoothly. "Release her."

"We never held her," Optimus Prime insisted. "When she is able to walk, she is free to leave. You are aware it is Starscream's work that put her in our care."

"It was Starscream's treachery, Skywarp's work," Megatron corrected. "I do appreciate that you repaired her, but I want her back now."

* * *

Ezara twisted around, dropping into a defensive stance at the sound behind her, and almost instantly came out of it to wrap her arms around Skywarp's neck, kissing him firmly in real life as her mind brushed against his in a welcome drenched in desire.

He hesitated briefly, then wrapped his arms around her as he absorbed the changes in her form. They weren't extensive; a little more mass, a bit taller, a lot heavier, but it was noticeable to him. Her mind ... so much stronger it was almost frightening to have it focused on him.

He heard the door open, Jazz's exclamation and warped out.

"Sky!" Ezara's tone was less than happy when they appeared next to Megatron. "Warning."

"Sorry," he murmured, fully expecting to hurt for it, only to find a gentle touch in his mind instead.

"Why did you appear here?" Megatron sounded even less pleased.

"Probably because he realizes there is a price to pay for what happened," Ezara said gruffly as she untangled herself from Skywarp, though it wasn't lost on anyone that her touch lingered far longer than needed.

"There always is," Megatron pointed out. "We will settle this at our base."

"No, Lord Megatron," she said firmly, earning her an appraising glare from the Decepticon. "The price is Starscream's Spark."

"If you can take it, it's yours," he scowled.

"And an uncontested walk through your mind," Ezara continued.

"Never," he raised his cannon towards her as Skywarp vanished to preserve his own skin.

"Don't even try it, Megatron," Optimus told him darkly, bringing his own blaster around and leveling it at Megatron's head as Prowl brought his flamethrowers around to cover him.

"This is not over," Megatron told them furiously and took off.

"That is an understatement," Ezara said quietly as she watched him disappear into the night.

"Prime, Skywarp just - I guess you sorted things out," Jazz said as he rushed out. "You okay?" He asked Ezara.

"Yes," she flicked her chin up, though there was no missing that she didn't _sound_ like everything was good. "Thank you."

"Let's go back inside, for now," Prime suggested, motioning everyone towards the entrance. "I hope I didn't overstep my bounds," he added to Ezara, inclining his head towards her.

"No, Optimus Prime," she told him and walked with the three of them into the Ark. "I'll fight him, but right now I'm content to have avoided it."

"As am I," he agreed. "It would have been... messy, if things had progressed. Though I don't think he'd have killed you there. I do suspect that he'll try something again," he warned her. "You may want to be careful about Skywarp in the future. Hard to tell what his actual intentions may be."

"Less difficult than Starscream," she tried not to growl. "I do understand. Megatron will use him, how I respond to him, against me."

"Starscream's intentions are easy to guess," Prowl offered as they went inside. "At least since he joined the Decepticons. It's all about power for him now. Hard to believe he used to be one of Cybertron's finest scientific minds."

Ezara startled enough to pause briefly. "_That_ mind was a scientist? Someone did a hell of a reprogramming job."

"The Forge, and losing Jetfire, did a lot to him ... nobody's entirely sure _what_ twisted him that way," Perceptor said as he came out to meet them. "But it's true. He and I were colleagues at one point in time, though we rarely worked that closely with each other. He actually designed the nullifier himself, or at least the prototype."

"The single most annoying weapon we've encountered," Ezara grumbled before looking over at Optimus Prime. "I believe we have a conversation to finish about asylum, politics, the rules of war and just what I'll be doing for the next few metacycles."

"If you're in the mood, I'd be glad to ... I take it things have been settled between you?" He asked her, not sure how much she wanted the others to know about. "If you would like, we could have some privacy - I would understand if you didn't want much company, given where the conversation may go."

"Yes, and that would be preferable," she nodded before flicking her chin up. "Who will you want there?"

"I would like to give Prowl and Jazz the opportunity, but if you would rather it was just the two of us, that's acceptable," he said easily as they approached his quarters.

"Your second in command and chief of intelligence?" she glanced over to confirm she had their ranks correct as they paused for Optimus Prime to open his door. "That is acceptable to me."

"Very well," he nodded, opening the door and stepping in. His quarters were very much spartan, without any of the sort of personalization that many commanders preferred. What was noticeable was an entire wall of Autobot emblems and medals - one medal for each emblem, none of them quite seeming to fit _him_.

"My reminder of fallen comrades," he explained briefly. "Make yourselves comfortable," he told them, closing the door and keying a sequence in to lock it after Jazz entered with a chair for himself and a container.

"You have done well as a leader, to have so few from nine mitracycles of war," Ezara said with quiet, honest respect for both the display and its creator as she sat down, keenly aware of a lack of drink in her hand and how badly she wanted one. It wasn't a sensation that she was used to, for all she knew it had been a Toe'Emirc penchant since the beginning.

"Thank you," he nodded. "Though Ratchet is to thank for a great deal of that as well," Optimus added, taking the remaining seat. "I'd like to try and end any hard feelings over our attempts to capture you. We were very concerned about what would happen if you were working with the Decepticons - and you've proven several times that we had good reason to be."

"Yes," she smiled slightly to cover just how good the praise made her feel, and gave Jazz a curious look as he opened the container he'd brought. "I do my best, even for the short-term alliance I expected that to be. I do not hold it against you, not after what you have already done for me. I'm aware I am not the easiest individual to have conversation with when I've decided to kill."

"Good," Optimus Prime relaxed slightly and Prowl let out an almost imperceptible sigh of relief.

"I must admit, I was surprised that you would even consider challenging Lydrom for the sake of someone who has nearly killed you, and as far as you knew when you offered, intended to try again," Ezara told them as she accepted a glass of high-poof energon from the supply Jazz brought and smiled a little at the white and blue mech when their fingers touched around the glass.

"I can not hold what the Decepticons convinced you to do against you," Optimus Prime told her as Jazz handed a glass of energon to him and Prowl. "I'm all too familiar with what Megatron is capable of, even when one knows what is at stake. You did not have even that to work with."

"True enough," she flicked her chin up. "As I'm sure you noticed, the warrior culture of Lydrom bears more than a minor resemblance to the Decepticon ways, for all there are definite differences when it comes to respecting rank. It felt ... comfortable, easy to understand. Fighting for him for the time it would take my ship to recharge seemed a fair trade for repairs and energy he offered me. That the mech he sent to pick me up is quite attractive to me didn't hurt. Neither did that Skywarp's unbonded."

"You care for Skywarp," Optimus Prime said.

Ezara raised a hand to stop him. "Yes, and I know, it is a security risk," she regarded the sparkling pink liquid in her glass before meeting his optics. "All I can offer is my word that I am capable of keeping anything from anyone I choose to, and that I will not allow my feelings for him to affect my performance. I'm not going back to them unless Megatron agrees to my terms."

"That is not going to happen," Prowl said with full confidence.

"Something I agree with," Ezara flicked her chin up.

"What were the terms?" Jazz asked, glancing between the three that had been there.

"Starscream's Spark, which he agreed to if I could take it," Ezara said. "And an uncontested walk through Megatron's mind, which was when he considered shooting me."

"Ya, that'll never happ'n," Jazz nodded in agreement.

"Which is his loss," she said before sipping her drink, already further along than anyone else. "And your gain. I have very different priorities than I did a tekacycle ago as well."

"How so?" Prowl asked politely, privately unsettled by the mercenary nature of her statement.

"I'm no longer trying to stay ahead of my hunter," she told them easily. "It is time to take back the position that is rightfully mine, or pass on the title properly."

"Then you are not looking for asylum," Optimus Prime regarded her.

"Correct," Ezara nodded slightly. "I do, however, have a proposition for you Optimus Prime of the Autobots, as Toe'Emirc of Lydrom," she leaned back slightly and sipped her drink, enjoying the sensation of it, the familiarity of drinking while talking of campaigns and tactics, more than the light charge it carried. "For a place to stay, energy and repairs, I will fight for you, as I fought for Megatron, until the challenge is settled in five to six metacycles.

"In exchange for a great deal more assistance in the form of supplies, personnel and authority in that time," she paused to sip her drink. "I will put two Lydrom star cruisers and their full complement at your disposal for an equal amount of time once the challenge is over.

"The agreement will be binding on Ryzia Koisi should he win," she added.

"Just what does a Lydrom star cruiser's complement consist of?" Prowl asked, even though he knew it wouldn't affect Optimus Prime's choice much.

"Five thousand warriors, three hundred fliers, one hundred medics, thirteen Master Engineers, thirty Engineers of lower rank, a Master Singer, five Singers of lower rank and the equipment that will allow them to be self-sufficient," Ezara summarized it. "Enough to hunt down every Decepticon within at least half metacycle of Cybertron and rebuild the world to a great extent."

Prowl wasn't sure how many warriors were on Lydrom, but she was offering more than all the Autobots and Decepticon forces put together. He had an unsettling feeling she knew it too. There were far too many possible reasons for it, but from what Prime and Jazz had told him, neither inexperience nor ignorance were going to be the answer.

"A Master Singer?" Optimus Prime asked, not sure just what that meant.

"They can shape crystal and other material with their voice," Ezara explained. "They make the finest weapons, armor, energy plants, artwork ... a few can even manipulate bio-forms. Toe'Emirc Singer was the founder of the discipline as it is known today. I'm an apprentice at it."

"Would you mind showing us?" Optimus Prime asked, honestly fascinated by the idea.

"Not at all," Ezara glanced around, then looked at Jazz. "Is there another glass?"

"Yap," he nodded and opened the container to hand one over.

"What would you say this material has no hope of penetrating, that you don't mind a puncture in?" Ezara looked at Optimus Prime.

"There should be some scrap metal in the lab," Jazz offered. "I could have Wheeljack or Perceptor bring it in - they're going to want to see this, if it works."

"That will work, and they can both watch, if they wish," she flicked her chin up, causing Optimus Prime to call the pair to his quarters with the scrap.

It didn't take Wheeljack long to arrive with the scrap metal, and Perceptor from his lab.

"How long do you expect it to take?" Perceptor asked.

"Between one and three cycles," she said absently and focused inward, the glass held lightly in her hands. The humming sounds she produced next resonated briefly, catching the Autobots by surprise as they felt their chassis vibrate, before she found the frequency range she was looking for and focused.

Jazz could hear the melody and harmony, the complex intricacies of the notes she was producing that made the glass seem to melt in her hands, then form into a pointed teardrop, and eventually refine itself with almost no manual manipulation into a simple dagger. He was sure, though he couldn't prove it, that it wasn't _just_ sound doing this. He was sure Blaster would want to hear this badly too. It was the kind of thing the music-obsessed Autobot would groove on.

Ezara regarded the results of almost two cycles of concentrated effort dispassionately, with just a hint of displeasure.

"It's not something I'd dare show my instructor, but it should illustrate the point well enough," she flipped it in the air, catching it by the hilt, and threw it at the scrap metal propped up on Prime's desk.

The shattering of glass that the Autobots expected on impact was actually a disturbing screech as the blade penetrated the metal several inches, even with the light momentum from her throw. "This, and what the Masters can do with power stations and fabric, are why Singers are so valued."

"Very impressive," Prime agreed with a nod. "Do you mind if Perceptor analyzes the blade?" He asked with a low chuckle, knowing that the scientist was just waiting for permission.

Ezara almost winced. "Go ahead, just keep in mind it is of _very_ poor quality," she told Perceptor seriously. "A weapon of any worth takes me at least five decacycles and far better starting materials."

"I understand," he nodded easily, pulling it out of the metal and looking it over. "However, it will give me a start at looking at the molecular changes that were induced... excuse me," he said politely, turning to go back to his lab with it.

"I'll go make sure he doesn't cut himself," Wheeljack chuckled. "That was interesting to see," he added, leaving along with Perceptor.

"They'll be busy for a while," Jazz chuckled while Optimus Prime locked the door again. "Blaster'd probably already be trying to duplicate it, for better or for worse."

"If he ever does, it will be a new discipline in all likelihood," Ezara said as she relaxed in the chair and nursed her drink. "You can't learn much of the art from an apprentice, even one with a Master in their head."

"Blaster's as expert with sonics as Soundwave is - more, in a lot of ways," Jazz explained, the fondness in his tone clear. "They were practically made out of the same mold. But that's another issue."

"Agreed," Optimus Prime nodded. "Earlier, you seemed willing to have us look through your memories of what happened - does that offer still stand?"

"Yes," she nodded, though it wasn't a completely comfortable one. "The few secrets I need to keep are well-secured."

"Just so that we're clear - I won't be judging your tactical decisions," he told her. "Not as tactical decisions. I can't possibly have all the information that you did. However, I will be comparing what I see to what charges have been brought against you, and against what they admit to doing themselves. There is one thing I would like to request from you, regarding the one who came to take you back."

"I understand," she flicked her chin up. "What is your request?"

"We have found out that the reason he is hunting you is because the current regime has threatened to kill his family if he doesn't bring you back," Optimus explained, privately pleased by the horrified reaction. "I want your word as the Toe'Emirc that they won't be harmed. It will be a major part of convincing _him_ to help us."

"You have my word as Toe'Emirc they will come to no harm," she nearly growled. "Xalisa has a _great_ deal to answer for when I get home. That is inexcusable."

"Thank you," he nodded. "If you would tell Caurun as much yourself, after we are done, I'm sure it would reassure him, as well as help to convince him that he will be safe. He wants to go home as much as you do, from speaking to him."

"I will, as long as he doesn't shoot at me first," she agreed.

They all moved to sit on the ground, Ezara in the middle, with Optimus Prime on her right, Prowl on her left and Jazz kneeling behind her. The blue and white mech placed a hand on her shoulder a bit more cautiously that usual. When he relaxed into the contact, Prowl placed a hand on her knee, and Optimus Prime placed a hand on her right shoulder.

The three of them found themselves on a clear crystal balcony above the bustling streets alive with the comings and goings of Tezita as bots, vehicles, aircraft, and even the occasional animal. The world-city that spread out below them had the same bio-mechanical feel to it as her knife, much of it built of crystal with varying degrees of opacity.

In the background, where most had a steady beat of their engine, here it was fast-paced military music that originated in the largest building they could see; an arena.

Despite the draw, all three of them couldn't help but focus on the same thing every Transformer did when they appeared in her mind; the square block sized beam of energy coming down from space to power everything.

"Impressive, isn't it Boss Bot?" Jazz asked, looking around again.

"Quite," Prime nodded. "Though the system would need some modifications to work for Cybertron, for various reasons. It's clear that there was a much stronger bio-life base on this world than on Cybertron."

"They still remember the bio-creatures who created them," Jazz nodded.

"We still remember the world before it was rebuilt," Ezara's voice was strong, every inch the proud, confident commander the Toe'Emirc should be. "It was not until the end of Delta Six's time that Lydrom was an artificial world. He was built on a world very much like Earth," she said as they turned around to greet her.

Prowl was a bit taken aback by the change, how colorful she was ... and that she was wearing clothing, much like the human soldiers did.

"The paint job and fabric is as much a part of how we view ourselves as the form," she smiled slightly at him. "A uniform and a display when we are being official. Welcome to my mind. This is probably the more organized it's ever been."

"Thank you for permitting us," he said formally.

"You seem to be much more comfortable now," Optimus Prime offered. "Having resolved things with Rawlind."

"I am," she flicked her chin up with a smile. "I understand why he did what he did, at least. Where did you wish to start?" she motioned them inside, to the office that Optimus Prime and Jazz had both seen two versions of before. This one was understandably very similar to Rawlind's, though the decor had a distinctly arena-champion vibe to it with weapons and trophies, some of them quite grisly to the Autobots, dominating much of the free space.

"For now, let's start with the charges brought against you," Prime suggested. "Was there a specific list of events that brought on the war this time?"

"Just the usual," she said as she brought up a holographic display in the middle of the room for them all to see. "A Toe'Emirc has a very finite lifespan, and those who watch know it's roughly a mitracycle. Between fifteen and fifty kistacycles before that, the strongest of the potential successors attract the attention of a civilian leader who wants a shot at being a ruler.

"They gather support, usually their personal command, and withdraw support from the current Toe'Emirc. Armies fight, to prove tactical skill. Until me, at some point the armies agree which challenger or challengers are acceptable to them, and the leaders fight. Whoever comes out of that series of personal battles becomes the new Toe'Emirc and their Si'Kae becomes the new civilian leader."

"Why hasn't anybody before Rawlind realized that there was the possibility of simply _choosing_ a successor?" Optimus Prime asked her. "It seems so much less destructive."

"Look how well it work well for him," Ezara pointed out. "The idea had been suggested a few times, even tried. The difficulty is finding the strongest potential successor when they are not yet showing the signs of it. Consider about the difficulty in choosing your successor if you had to do it before they had even decided if they were going into the military, much less been trained or seen combat. We go to the strongest Spark, no matter who that is. In Singer's case, she wasn't even on the field, and without a Si'Kae. Granted, it is an unusual case, but it illustrates the difficulty.

"Perhaps more to the point, warriors without a war to prepare for or fight...." she turned her gaze on Optimus Prime. "Think about Thundercracker or Skywarp, or your Ironhide, with no acceptable venue for their aggression. Now realize that it's at least fifth of the world's population, far more if we didn't kill each other off so fast. You can't take a military bot and make them a civilian. They go crazy for something to _do_."

"One of the reasons so few of us are actually designed as military bots," he nodded slightly. "It's not really safe, in the long-term."

"I'm fairly sure that my hunter can tell you we've done a fairly good job of keeping the civvies out of our fights," Ezara said as she sat back into an invisible chair, a silver dagger twisting in her fingers absently. "Though I agree, in general. It is a luxury the Tezita do not have with the nature of our creation. The only way to stop military designs from being common would be to stop the military from having younglings."

"Another factor, yes," he nodded. "At any rate, I understand that's a difference between us. There was no particular grievance that led to the uprising then? Just somebody wanting power?"

"It was just time for it," she shrugged. "It's an old cycle, and it works for us."

Optimus considered her, her clear acceptance of this cycle of violence as just the way things were, and what she'd said of why.

"If this plan of Rawlind's works, if you can choose your successor like he did and pass on the skill, what will happen?" he asked. "What was his plan?"

"What warriors do; we find a war to fight," she smiled faintly at him and watched as realization hit him.

"Your offer, it's a test run," Optimus Prime said, still in a bit of shock. "To find out if fighting someone else's war is enough."

"That's exactly what it is," Ezara offered him a glass of glittering black energon. "Now, care to take me up on it?"

He took the glass and considered it, looking at her evenly. He didn't want to ask this, but he had to. She was offering an army larger than all of Cybertron's - even on two ships, he had to ask.

"What happens after one side or the other wins, and your army still needs a war?" He asked her.

"Rebuilding Cybertron will entertain us for a time, then we go looking for another war," she said simply. "With as much life as you've encountered in this galaxy, I find it difficult to believe _someone_ won't need an army once a mitracycle or so."

"Understood," he nodded. "We might be able to point you at a target or two, over time - there are people out there who deserve to be on the receiving end, and not just ones we're at war with. You can understand why I was concerned though," he added, taking a drink, knowing it had more significance in this situation. The burn of it warned him to be very careful if she ever offered it to him physically. The small mouthful he'd taken would have him seriously buzzed, any more and he'd have to question his own judgment on anything he said or did.

"Yes," she flicked her chin up before drinking more easily. "At least for a time, we are likely to drastically alter the balance of power in any situation we become involved in. I'm sure my mercenary nature has you more than a little concerned as well."

Jazz looked between the pair of them, something nagging the back of his processors until he put it together.

"Prime, that's an issue for the far future," he said, hoping his leader caught the subtext and didn't push the point.

"Agreed," he nodded. "It isn't your mercenary nature that concerned me the most," he explained. "It's the simple imbalance between our forces. You do have a sense of honor, and of right and wrong, that puts you beyond many of our enemies," he reassured her.

"That you can thank to the others more than me," she admitted. "Singer, Mitrix and Black Star Rising in particular. It is ... good to know I've mellowed that much," she said more quietly, mulling over the fact. "Regardless of the future, you will have nothing to fear from the Tezita as long as you do not attack us," she promised.

"That is good to know," Optimus Prime took another cautious sip, wondering at why it was so different from what he had been served before.

"Rawlind and I grew up on very different brews," Ezara chuckled lightly. "It's a bit harsh for your tastes?"

"A bit," he admitted. "I don't think I'd want to risk it in reality, it's rather concentrated."

"What did you call this?" Jazz asked as he caught a whisper in her mind.

"Ssiii'Poemat," she winked at him as she poured three glasses of the smooth, finely crafted blue type her predecessor favored. "Literally, 'Death's Delay'. A mug and you feel no pain, and most can fight well past fatal injuries," she handed the glasses out. "An arena favorite. Made for great shows, and much less dangerous work for the medics that repaired survivors. Rawlind spend the better part of three kistacycles trying to teach me to appreciate finer brews. It never did take. I still prefer it black and unfiltered.

"Are you still interested in seeing the war?" She asked Optimus Prime.

"Certain portions of it," he nodded. "Particularly related to the city that was destroyed... I understand it was a quarantine situation?"

"Yes," her mood went solemn almost instantly as she swallowed half her glass and brought up a world-image of Lydrom at the time, the district marked in red along with a handful of other location notes, such as the palace they were in, the arena beyond them and several power plants in the area. Even without probing her mind, the sick regret she felt washed over them, along with a more muted sense of acceptance for what had to be done, a certainty that she had made the best choice in a no-win situation. "The origin is still unidentified, at least when I left. Too many suspects and far too little proof. All I know, from Rawlind, is that it was not a project of his, or likely to result from one.

"It's not the first time we've dealt with such things. They happen on a world run by code," she said, finishing her glass and pouring a second before sitting down again, her desire for the drink, and it's associated numbness, to be real impossible to ignore for a lingering moment. "The protocols were well established even in Delta Six's time, from how the Lydrom handled biological outbreaks. Contain, identify, treat. It was just my bad luck to be Toe'Emirc when containment failed on something too deadly to be allowed to spread," she shivered slightly, brief memory flashes of the results flickered in their minds.

Bodies twisted and mangled beyond recognition, or the wiring simply dissolved away, leaving an empty husk and contagious goo behind. The infected living, oozing orange and red fluids and driven mad by pain as they attacked anything they found, living or not.

"Containment failed. Identification failed. Treatments failed. Even full scrub of memory and processors failed," her gaze was squarely on her half-empty drink. "100% mortality within ten decacycles. When I gave the order I had the choice between vaporizing a hundred thousand civilians and a few thousand warriors, give them a fast, fairly painless death, or let them infect the entire planet to die slowly. It was my first act as Toe'Emirc."

"Damn," Jazz murmured.

"Cybertron hasn't had to do that, but we've had close calls," Optimus told her gently. "I'm grateful to never have had to make that decision, but we have protocols for it as well... I understand how difficult the call would have had to be. Every technological world I've heard of has had to prepare for that possibility - computer viruses are too common and spread too quickly when it only takes _thought_ to spread them."

"You've been very lucky then," she glanced at him briefly, grateful for the understanding from someone on outside. "War you can usually keep away from civvies. This ... it hits them harder than us," she downed the rest of her glass.

"Prime, real 'r not, she's drunk," Jazz whispered while she was distracted pouring a third glass of the black drink. "You and Prowl should get out."

"What about you?" Optimus Prime looked at him, even as he placed the bits of information he had together and realized that she'd be very amorous as soon as she snapped out of her mood.

"Somebody needs to make 'er feel better," he winked. "Your Spark's still with Elita-1."

"Yes," Optimus Prime nodded as he motioned to Prowl to withdraw. "Let me know when I can have my quarters back."

"Will do," Jazz nodded, watching the pair leave before walking up to her and gently extracting the empty glass from her hand before she could consider refilling it a fourth time. "Let me take you mind off it," he suggested as he stepped inside her personal space and reached up to caress her face.

"Mmm, can I expect this every time Prime asks me painful questions?" Ezara leaned into the touch as their forms shifted, hers to a Lydrom, his to a human nearly her height.

"You don't have to wait for that," he said as their mouths met. He slid his hands around her strong waist and down her hard ass, pulling her against him. He could taste the hard edge Optimus Prime had managed not to choke on and realized just why it did what she described.

When her hands stroked his back from shoulders to ass, Jazz didn't fight the moan it drew from him. The sensation of the long, stiff hairs on her tail that concealed her sex rubbing against his erection made him shiver and briefly forget that he was trying to make her relax. He moaned and shivered when her mouth claimed his in unabashed, overcharged lust that gave no quarter.

With little warning Jazz found himself backed against her desk and pushed down to lay on the hard, polish wood surface. She as on top of him, the purely predatory body language nearly snapped him out of going along when she pinned his wrists down with one hand. For one brief, nerve-wracking moment when she leaned forward to bite his neck, Jazz realized that she wouldn't stop if he asked.

Then all concern was washed away with a groan of pleasure as he slid inside her slick, hot body. Would or would not didn't matter when he wanted it.


	5. The Morning After

_Fandom_: Transformers G1 season 1 + The Ultimate Guide  
_Timing_: Pre-"War of the Dinobots"  
_Pairing_: Jazz/Ezara  
_Rating_: PG-13  
_Codes_: Het

_Summary_: When Jazz finally extracts himself from Ezara's attentions, Caurun gets the news of her choices.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home 18: The Morning After**

* * *

Jazz groaned as his optics and sensors came on line. It took him a long moment to place the where, who, when and how as he took in the unfamiliar surroundings to power up in.

The floor of Optimus Prime's quarters was a new one. Being tangled in an embrace with a resting femme wasn't new, but it was the first time Ezara has cycled down in his presence. She looked every bit the Sparkling she was, with nothing adding mitracycles of experience to her thoughts.

He shifted a hand to caress her face lightly, enjoying the rare tactile contact in the real world. He froze when she shifted and murmured something unintelligible, but she settled back into deep rest quickly. He ghosted a touch across her processors, curious what she dreamed when she smiled.

It was a move he regretted instantly. Even as he broke the contact he desperately wished he could delete it from his memory. He'd killed, he'd seen friends die, he'd done some terrible things, by his own morals, for the sake of the greater good. But never, _never_, had he taken such ... thrill ... in slaughter.

In an effort to accept his mind went back to Mitrix's description of Ezara; that her Spark was the rarest kind, that of a beast, tied to the world Lydrom had been first formed as. As unsettling as it was for him, the hunt, the thrill in a kill, the lust growing from a full belly made almost too much sense.

So did the memory-presence of Ravage as her hunting partner and mate.

If she wasn't so damn dangerous, he'd openly admit she belonged with the Decepticons more than she did here. Doing that would put her army at Megatron's disposal, though, and he was committed to do _anything_ to prevent that.

As it was, he had to keep it all to himself, along with much of his reaction to her youthful, intentionally honed vicious nature and the casual violence of her culture. At the same time Mitrix's words came back to him about how morally moldable she was. If she was close to someone strong, she'd fall in line with their ways, good or bad.

Jazz reluctantly disentangled himself from her, his entire body tingling in memory of what they'd done. Once she'd taken the edge off her lust, it had turned playful and exploratory, then tender, and very long.

"Ezara," he touched her shoulder lightly, timing his intrusion between her dreams. "A bed would be nicer to snuggle on."

"Mmm, who's?" her optics only partially powered up as she looked up at him.

He lightly slid his hand along her arm. "Mine?" he suggested, hoping it would come across as he meant, as an offer of someone who cared about her.

"Sounds good," she murmured and got to her feet, claiming a lingering, light kiss before she followed him to his quarters.

* * *

"Well looks who's finally up and about," Ironhide said gruffly when Jazz appeared in the Ark's common room more than a decacycle after Optimus Prime and Prowl had left him alone with Ezara.

"I'd like to see _you_ extract yourself from that femme-bot when she doesn't want to you leave," Jazz shot back with uncharacteristic ill temper.

"Did something happen?" Optimus Prime looked at his chief of intelligence carefully as Jazz dropped into a chair with a sore groan.

"Plenty," Jazz answered. "Mostly it's sinkin' in how much slaggin' _work_ she's gonna be."

"If it's too much, let me know," Prime told him seriously. "You don't want to get too involved here."

"I'd say he's plenty 'involved' already," Ironhide joked, earning a few snickers from others in the room.

Jazz gave Ironhide a glare but didn't respond. "I will, Prime," he promised. "I'm hopin' it'll get easier when she's been here 'while. Right now, she's like trin' t' tame Ravage with Starscream's smarts. The up side is the others want 'er here more than with them."

"And she'll realize it over time," Prime agreed. "We're going to have to speak with Caurun; we might as well do it now," he said, pressing a button to signal for him.

"I'd ask how it went, but I think I know," Caurun said as he walked into the common room and got a look at Jazz. "Are you okay?"

"Ya," Jazz nodded. "I'm fine."

Caurun gave him a look that said he clearly wasn't convinced, but let it go as he looked at Optimus Prime. "What is that dagger you gave Perceptor? He hasn't looked up from it yet," he asked, trying to be social before he got to the more delicate question that he _really_ wanted to ask.

"A very basic, low-quality crystal blade, according to Ezara - but I take it that Perceptor is still figuring out how she made glass capable of penetrating steel."

"Ah," he nodded, then looked startled. "She's a Singer too?"

"An apprentice, she says," Prime nodded. "That's unusual? To have basic skills as one?"

"It's the rarest talent on Lydrom," he flicked his chin up slightly. "I was more surprised because it was not in her file," he said and sat down near Jazz. "What is she like, when she's not running?"

"Hard to say," Optimus Prime admitted. "She varies a lot, from time to time. But the charges... they're not right," he told Caurun seriously. "We looked; they've been exaggerated a lot, and the one that _is_ accurate wasn't a war move."

"Can't say I'm surprised," he acknowledged.

"You really don't care," Jazz regarded him curiously.

"That's not my job," Caurun told him. "Guilt or innocent and punishment is for the courts. I just see that people get to their trial. Has she requested asylum?"

"Actually, no," Prime admitted. "However, she's done something that may complicate things even more. She has prepared a challenge to the current Toe'Emirc of Lydrom. She will send it as soon as we have a transmission system available, along with certain conditions."

"Okay," Caurun said slowly as he absorbed the twist. "Unless she needs something more specialized, she can use the one in my ship. Will she return to Lydrom for it?"

"It is not her intention," Optimus Prime said, taking in Caurun's even greater surprise. "She indicated the challenge will be here on Earth."

"So ... how is this going to happen, in her version?" he asked carefully.

"She believes that once she issues the challenge, every military bot will know, and if Ryzia Koisi does not accept it, they will know and turn on him," Optimus Prime said. "She has given her word as Toe'Emirc that no harm will come to your family, and that her word is binding no matter who wins the battle."

"Given my ship can make the round trip in the time I was given, it should be enforceable," Caurun murmured as he took in change in plans on all sides. "What will she do until they arrive?"

"In exchange for staying here and the energy she needs, she offered to fight for me," Optimus Prime said, still not entirely comfortable with the phrasing, for all he understood it was a personal alliance, not a political one, out of necessity for the time being.

"For what it's worth, give her what she wants to keep her," Caurun offered a bit of advice. "Not because it'll make my life easier, but because she can do a great deal of damage to your enemies if you let her. From what I've gathered, between us, we could change the balance of power, at least on Earth."

"Agreed," Prime nodded. "Would you like us to make the offer of your transmission system, or would you like to do so in person?"

"If you believe it's safe for me to talk to her, I would like to," Caurun said. "Where is she now?"

"In my quarters, restin'," Jazz answered to several knowing looks and snickers from those who overheard.

"Is she really that rough?" Caurun gave him another appraising look.

"No," Jazz shook his head. "She's just very..." he paused, trying to find a phrase that wasn't too insulting. "Carnal."

It still garnered more than a few snickers and 'lucky bot' looks from around the room. He was sure several of the others would happily trade places with him, no matter how worn out and sore he was. At the moment, he knew some of them were better suited to her personality, but he doubted he anyone but Optimus Prime and himself to get her to think like an Autobot and keep her there.

"That fits with an arena warrior," Caurun flicked his chin up. "Speaking of, has she mentioned any drink she prefers?"

"She called it Ssiii'Poemat," Jazz supplied.

"Death's Delay," Caurun chuckled. "I not surprised. If you care to make her very happy, and can deal with her that overcharged, I do know how to make the variant Darimoc's arena is famous for. It's likely the formula she was thinking of."

"I'll keep it in mind, but I'll hold off for now," Jazz said, shaking his head. "I should probably introduce you when she comes around, just in case."

"Thank you, but first, how tall is she now?" Caurun asked Optimus Prime.

"My height," he lifted a hand to mark the top of her head.

Caurun flicked his chin up and began a subtle transformation, keeping his bot form but lowering his height by nearly five feet and even with Optimus Prime's shoulder.

"Height is that important?" Jazz asked as he watched a change that no Transformer did.

"Yes," Caurun flicked his chin up. "I was given the upgrade on a temporary basis, to help me intimidate and control her. If I'm trying to make nice and convince her I'm not here to fight, looking down is a bad thing."

"Is this your normal height?" Jazz asked, fascinated that he hadn't picked up on this.

"No," Caurun said. "This is the average for a command officer, someone who has the right to walk up and talk to her, and be listened to. My usual height is a bit taller than Bumblebee; tall for a civvie but noticeably shorter than any military bot."

"The height of a biological Lydrom," Jazz nodded. "Interesting. "I'll go see if she's ready," he said, turning to lead the way.

"If she's in your quarters, perhaps you could bring her here?" Caurun suggested. "She won't feel as cornered."

"I'll work on it," Jazz agreed, leaving to check on her.

* * *

Ezara cycled awake and froze as she struggled to place where she was. She hadn't been here before, but memory eventually kicked up that it was Jazz's quarters. He wasn't here though, no one was, so she stood and tested her fine motor control as she took in her surroundings.

It was far more personalized than Optimus Prime's, with holostills of several mechs and a couple femmes on the walls and his desk. One bright orange mech with a yellow chest and chrome legs was shown more than anymore else. He looked a lot like Soundwave, except for his head, and his attitude was entirely different.

"He's Blaster," Jazz explained as he came in. "How're you doing?"

"Your lover," she smiled over her shoulder at Jazz before turning to lean against the edge of his desk. "Or is he more?"

"More, in some ways," Jazz chuckled. "Our Sparks aren't bound together or anything, but we're very close. Neither of us does the 'exclusive' thing though, especially not this far apart."

"Mmm, nice to hear," she almost purred. "I hope he's still alive, when you get home," she tried to be nice and remember that four and some mitracycles weren't what they were to her.

"He is now, at least," Jazz nodded. "He's a good fighter ... and a comm spec, so he's not on the front lines _too_ often. When he is, he's always got the boys to help him out, so I don't worry _too_ much," he chuckled. "His cassettes," he added as soon as he realized she didn't know. "The small ones in the picture of us," he picked up a holostill from his desk. "That's Steeljaw, Ramhorn, Eject and Rewind," he pointed to the lion, rhino and two bots not much taller than a human with them. "He's biting at the bit to come to Earth after I brought him up to speed on the music here."

"Sounds like he's a fun one to hang out with," Ezara considered the image of the pair of them. "I can see why'd you'd get along with him."

"You'd prolly like him too, if you were just lookin' for a good time in each other's heads," Jazz chuckled. "Music is _definitely_ his game."

"In the head, or a real club," she shifted her weight forward and slid her fingers along his jawline as she extended her awareness to brush against his, her intentions of letting him set the scene for pleasure open.

Even without trying, the pure, unabashed nature of her lust drew a ragged moan from his vocal processors.

"They _would_ like to talk to us in the common room," he told her, trying to remember his duties right now.

"Mmm," she leaned forward to kiss him lightly, sending a small charge through his circuits. "I guess we'll have to wait to see what you'd think of," she said seductively before breaking the contact.

"Are you always this energetic?" he asked her, shaking his head slightly as he headed over to the door.

"Usually," Ezara chuckled. "At least when I'm not focused on a fight."

Jazz kept his sigh to himself. He really should have seen _that_ coming. "I sh'd warn you, one of the people who wants to talk to you is Caurun. He'll only talk though."

"Caurun ... oh."

He heard her steps pause briefly, then continue down the hall next to him.

"About what?" she asked, her tone almost level.

"He may want to explain things... he'd also like to offer you the use of his ship's transmitter to send your challenge to Lydrom."

"How much of that is because Optimus Prime has pressured him?" she asked, her voice low as the approached the common room.

"He offered the transmitter on his own," Jazz told her. "And he seems fine enough with the challenge scenario. He doesn't have anything personal against you."

"We were about to send a search party," Bumblebee teased Jazz when he and Ezara walked into the large common room where the Autobots did most of their socializing.

"Toe'Emirc Starshine," Caurun bowed deeply to her, a move that would make it nearly impossible for him to react to an attack if she tried. "You look well-recovered."

"Yes," she considered him, skeptical and suspicious but not completely hostile as he straitened.

"If it will suffice, you are welcome to use the communications system in my ship," he cut right to the point. "I was told it is the fastest military scout at the time we left."

"It will do," she twitched her chin to the right fractionally. "If you call your ship up, we can get that part dealt with."

"Yesma'am," Caurun said before heading outside.

It wasn't much past when his footsteps faded that she dropped into a chair, her frayed nerves making themselves known as she pulled herself together.

"He's not gonna to try returnin' you, at this point," Jazz reassured her. "From what I can tell, it's gonna be over on that end of things. Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," she murmured after she got her wits together. "Yes, I'm fine. I just didn't expect to still be afraid of him," she admitted very quietly, low enough only Jazz, and possibly Optimus Prime, could have heard. "It's weak, but I could _really_ use a drink right now," she glanced up at Jazz hopefully.

He knew what she really wanted, probably even worse than she would admit, but the only supply of that vicious black stuff was three galaxies away at the moment, and he didn't dare let her know how grateful he was for that small saving grace as he went to pour her a mug of high-proof energon. They didn't need her that overcharged, not when she was still unsettled about Caurun, and getting ready to issue a challenge over the fate of her world.

"Here," he offered the mug to her, and tried not to react to the spark that danced across his tactile receptors when their fingers touched. "Do you know what you're going to say?"

"It's pure formality," she said after a long drink and settled in the chair a bit. "As the challenger, it's my right to choose the time and place." She looked up at Optimus Prime. "If you are inclined to take my proposal, it would be good to decide soon. The ships'll take time to get to Cybertron."

"I am interested," he nodded. "The war on Cybertron needs to come to an end, one way or the other."

"It will, and in your favor," Ezara flicked her chin up in acceptance, downed the rest of the mug and stood with a steady, self-assured grace that befitted her rank to head outside when the rumble of Caurun's ship rising to the surface could be felt.

"Let's hope this all ends in _her_ favor too," Ironhide observed, shaking his head as Jazz and Optimus Prime went to follow her out.

Ezara gave Caurun a suspicious look when she saw he was in the ship.

"Look, you don't trust me not to take off with you, I don't trust you not to take off without me," Caurun said evenly. "We both know if you get my ship I'll never catch up."

She gave him a glare, and he rolled his optics before he unslung his rail gun and tossed it to Optimus Prime.

"Good enough," Ezara decided and climbed intro the meteor like ship a good two times larger than hers, and far newer.

Caurun motioned to Optimus Prime and Jazz to join them if they wanted and turned to join her inside the single room that took up half the ship's space and seemed to contain everything needed -- a cushioned berth for long metacycles powered down, a table and chair, and control panel that took up the entire rounded front wall.

"I'll go," Jazz offered, realizing how cramped the ship would still likely be, following her in to keep an eye on things.

Ezara took the only seat in the middle of the control panel and began working the controls like she belonged and spoke in her native language.

"Greetings, Ryzia Koisi. This is Toe'Emirc Ezara Onyan'a of the Vistra. To claim my title rightfully, bring your Si'Kae and Guard to Earth and we will battle for it as soon as you arrive. Coordinates for the field are included," she recorded, added the data, and sent the transmission.

"Who else are you calling?" Caurun asked when she set up to record another transmission.

"Rawlind's Guard," she answered. "They are the ones who continued preparations for my return as Toe'Emirc after I fled. If I am to win, I will need them here as well."

"Is this gonna be army versus army?" Jazz asked her, wondering how big an area they would need.

"If Ryzia brings who I expect, a couple hundred spectators, but only two combatants," she said before focusing on the comm system. "Hi Tonen. Here are my coordinates. I hope you're ready to move, and fast. Backup heavy on the engineers." She said, and set it off.

"It is done," she stood and turned to those watching. "There should be a message calling the hunt off when he agrees to our fight and telling me how long it will take to arrive. There is nothing to do now but prepare for the challenge and see to your problems," she told Optimus Prime as she left the ship. "While I am sure Megatron has changed plans now that I'm changed sides, I do know something of their plans for the near future."

"It will be welcome," Prime nodded. "Can you tell me how many people will be arriving, when the time comes?"

"About two hundred," Jazz said. "The spectators are to make sure everybody follows the rules or something?" He asked her.

"It's more they're the ones with enough authority or power in their own right to keep from missing history in the making," Ezara explained as they walked back inside the Ark and Caurun sent his ship into the earth. "Normally all of Lydrom's forces would be watching. We're a little far out for that to work."

"I imagine," Optimus Prime chuckled lowly. "You'll wish to stay on the Ark, I presume - would you like your ship moved here?"

"I won't have any control over it until it's finished charging, another two local lunar cycles," she flicked her chin left. "I would like to stay on the Ark."

"Of course," he nodded. "I was just going to suggest that we could move your ship the old-fashioned way - Huffer won't mind making the drive, and then you'll be able to keep an eye on it."

Ezara chuckled lightly. "Somehow, I don't think even Ironhide could manage that. Recharging takes place in the turmoil of the mid-mantel. It'll come to the surface near me when it's ready. What do you do for a celebration here on Earth?"

"I know a few clubs around here that take Autobots - it'd be hard t' dance for ya, but we can hang with locals, catch the beat," Jazz offered. "Usually, we just relax back here if we've got the stores for it."

"We do have the stores," Optimus Prime supplied, not entirely sure he wanted her out looking to party in a city. Not with what he knew of her idea of 'fun' from Jazz.

"Looking to get properly buzzed, or just have fun?" Caurun grinned at her, and got one back before she caught herself.

"Don't know if the Ark's up for you getting filled up on that black stuff of yours," Jazz chuckled. "Let's try keepin' her in one piece, at least?"

"The Ark'll be fine," Ezara grinned playfully. "Now you...." she all but purred as she leaned towards Jazz. "You might not feel like moving come morning."

"If she gets to be too much, just push her towards somebody else," Caurun laughed deeply.

"And he says there's nothing going on," Ironhide grinned as they came back in, catching the tail-end of the conversation.

"Watch it," Jazz said with good-natured warning. "Or I'll push her towards _you_."

"Promise?" Ezara couldn't help the snickering giggle as she all but draped herself across Jazz's shoulders. "I love your definition of 'nothing going on'."

"The funny part is, he's sayin' that like I'd complain," Ironhide chuckled.

"I'll keep the proof low. It'll keep her in a good mood," Caurun whispered to Optimus Prime as he headed off to play mix-master for her drink.

"Thank you," Prime nodded as Ironhide went to break out the energon for everybody else. He just hoped that things _stayed_ this calm for a while. He'd have to be sure to get her information about the Decepticons later - they might be able to get ahead of them for once.

"I think I'm going to _have_ to find out if he's clueless or just cocky," Ezara mused as Ironhide left. "I suspect you're the DJ here," she didn't hesitate in claiming a kiss from Jazz and sending a charge of pleasure across his entire system.

"I think it's good none of us are exclusive," Prowl said quietly, standing next to Optimus Prime as the entire room watched Jazz try not to tremble. "I get the feeling she has no grasp on the concept."

"And there are enough who will enjoy her attention she'll probably leave the few who'd rather avoid it alone," he agreed. "Given her history, I can't say I'm surprised. When the others aren't influencing her, I think this is what she's like. Out to enjoy every moment of life she can get."

"Got any requests?" Jazz asked her with a grin. "Something from back home, maybe?"

"Think anyone can dance to these?" she passed a rather impressive selection of club music from Lydrom to him.

"Definitely," he nodded and broke the contact to upload the files and a play sequence to Teletraan-1. He was sure he wasn't going to be left to DJ for long. No matter what she said about playing with the others, and he had no doubt she would, he was sure he wouldn't be spared the majority of her time.

"Let's just hope we don't have to fight tomorrow," Prowl mentioned to Prime as the others started to join in. "It could make for a very rough day if we do."


	6. Toe'Emirc Prime

_Fandom_: Transformers G1 season 1 + The Ultimate Guide  
_Timing_: Pre-"War of the Dinobots"  
_Pairing_: Optimus Prime/Ezara, Jazz/Ezara, many others  
_Rating_: NC-17 for M/F  
_Codes_: Het

_Summary_: With the party in full swing, Ezara pulls Optimus Prime out onto the dance floor, and get a surprise of her own.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home 19: Toe'Emirc Prime**

* * *

Ezara spun out of Wheeljack's arms and into Sunstreaker's, laughing in delight as the bright yellow Autobot swung her around on the dance floor and they briefly wrapped each other in pleasure as they danced.

"Tonight, it's hard to believe she's the military ruler of Lydrom with over two cyracycles experience on the front line," Caurun said, bemused at the riotous display and how free she seemed to be.

"Just how overcharged is she?" Optimus Prime asked quietly as she ended up in Blue Streak's embrace.

"Given who and what she is, probably the equivalent of two of your high-grade to you," Caurun estimated. "She's gotten more from her dance partners than the mix I made. I tweaked for taste more than potency."

"Thank you for that," Optimus chuckled lowly, more relaxed himself thanks to his own consumption.

"Optimus!" Ezara's voice was giddy and more than a little buzzed as she escaped Ironhide's stunned embrace and took the steps to reach him. "It's a good night for you too," she grinned at him and grabbed his wrists to pull him onto the dance floor. "In six metacycles you'll have your world back."

The touch of her processors across the physical contact was light and inviting ... not at all like her approach to Jazz and the others ... though it carried the same desire.

His initial response was less warm than she likely hoped it would be ... but he softened up to it quickly. Elita-1 wouldn't have wanted him to be alone, but more, she wouldn't have wanted him to potentially damage an important political alliance for her memory. He sent a return charge across, along with a brief message.

"Are you sure you want to stay out here?"

He caught her surprise, brief as it was, before she replied across their contact.

"No," the single syllable was full of hunger, and a desire that went far beyond youthful lust or overcharged impulses. Just as he realized the unsettling thought, that extra want in her was forcibly put down in a way he could feel it.

He knew it would start rumors among his men, but that was likely to happen either way, if they hadn't already. He led her towards his quarters, entirely aware of how strange this seemed, but keeping that reaction under control.

"It's been a long time for me," he explained when they reached his room.

"That seems to be a theme," she admitted. The touch when she brushed her fingers along his palm was gentle, very different than he'd expected as they entered his quarters and he closed the door without locking it. "What is she like?"

"She was an incredible warrior," he explained. "Noble, selfless, and brilliant. She died along with the rest of her team just before we left Cybertron," he told her, sending across an image of Elita-1.

"She's pretty," Ezara said as she sat on his berth and looked up. "If it's too fresh...."

"No," he said, shaking his head as he sat down next to her. "At least not at the moment. She'd have wanted me to take the opportunity while it was presented," he told her, reaching up to touch her cheek lightly, opening up access to his own mindscape.

The presence that flowed across the contact was far more sober, and somber, than he'd expected. Caurun had been right, she was barely feeling the effects from the drink and dancing. It was just a look at her without the burden of leadership; a distinction he understood all too well. There was more empathy for his loss than he expected too, as she wrapped his presence in her own, and a touch of protectiveness, as if she could stop the pain of his loss the way she knew how to stop the pain of a broken body.

"Cybertron is familiar to you?" Optimus Prime couldn't help his surprise when she formed a human body to match his human form.

"I've seen a fair amount," she murmured as she slid her hands up his broad, smooth chest and claimed a soft, lingering kiss.

"Whose version of it?" He asked her with a low chuckle, returning the kiss and sliding his hands along her body, assessing her responses to touch.

"Mostly Skywarp and Starscream, some from Soundwave, Ravage, Thundercracker and Megatron," she answered with a low, encouraging moan and a trail of kisses down his neck. She didn't even try to hide her feelings towards the various mechs; good, bad or indifferent.

"Explains quite a bit," he murmured, sliding a hand up to fondle her breasts lightly even as he made note of what she thought of who and suppressed how much her affection for Skywarp and Megatron worried him. "Do you want to see mine?" He asked her.

"I would," Ezara smiled as she continued to kiss her way down his body as her hands took in the strength of his torso and hips, the perfect, well-muscled symmetry of the form he'd created.

He shifted the area around them, moving them out to one of the great parks, complete with mechanical foliage and animal life.

"I'm assuming you'd still like some privacy," he murmured, letting her lips move along his dark, well-tanned skin, squeezing her nipples between his fingers as he looked down to make sure she didn't mind their rather more open surroundings.

"I do," Ezara purred against his navel, sliding one hand around to fondle his balls while she took his half-hard erection into her mouth down to the pubes.

"Good," he groaned lowly, reaching down to run his fingers through her hair as she quickly worked him to hardness. "You don't have to wait to get some attention yourself," he offered, sending along what he had in mind.

She purred around his cock, drawing a deep groan from him before she pulled back to free her mouth. "Then come down here," she grinned up at him.

He slid down to his knees, kissing her and pressing her to her back, turning to lay on top of her, licking her sex lightly, from her clit on back. He felt her moan more than heard it as she lifted her knees, giving him better access, and took his hard cock all the way down her throat.

From there it was a race to who got the other off first, and Optimus Prime didn't stand a chance against her, between skill and that she'd already gotten off a dozen times that evening. He moaned into her slick, swollen sex, then grunted as he came, pouring his energy down her throat as his pleasure peaked, then a little more as he continued to thrust until the ecstasy abated. It was difficult not to shudder when she shifted to free her mouth and exposed the wet skin to the night air.

"Mouth up here, cock in me," she cooed, just enough of a request in her tone to keep it from being an order.

It wasn't an idea the Optimus Prime was all that inclined to contest, no matter how she presented it. He could feel she was only being honest in her want. That, more than anything, felt good. It hadn't been since the last time he'd been with Elita-1 that anyone had thought of him without any care that he was Prime, the keeper of the Matrix of Leadership ... since anyone had thought of him as just a mech they wanted to be with.

"I know the feeling," Ezara murmured before she kissed him, then moaned into his mouth as he buried himself in her body. "It's lonely, for all we can have anyone."

"Main reason it's been so long for me," he admitted, starting to thrust slowly as he kissed her. "Prefer an equal, in spirit at least."

"Ah!" she gasped, going rigid for a brief moment as he rubbed against a spot inside her that sent shockwaves of pleasure through her.

He shifted his thrusts to press him against that spot again and again, bending to give her breasts some attention with his mouth. He wasn't quite sure what about it was working so well for her, but he wasn't about to question it.

It wasn't long before she'd lost track of everything but the pleasure that spiked higher with each thrust, edging her ever closer to the orgasm she was no longer resisting.

When he felt her right on the brink, Optimus Prime lifted his head to kiss her as her energy poured into him with a rush. He continued to thrust, using her pleasure to push himself over the edge a second time.

"You are intense," he murmured with a kiss as he pulled out and settled on the ground next to her. "What impulse did the others just put down?" he asked her with a gentle touch down her chest to between her legs. "That's the third time I've felt it happen."

Ezara moaned and pressed into his fingers, unwilling to ignore the pleasure. "The urge to bond, to make you my Si'Kae," she said. "You'd make a good civil leader, you can stand up to me in a full rage. It's something ... it'd be fair to say I'm desperate for right now." She whimpered into his mouth. "I _know_ I can't rule alone, I probably can't even win the challenge without a suitable Si'Kae."

"Why challenge now, if you do not believe you can win?" he regarded her, still gently playing his fingers through the folds of her labia and around her clit. "You have successfully escaped them for six kistacycles."

"Win or loose, Lydrom'll have its leader again," she almost sounded ashamed, and very much relieved, as she shifted to press against his side. "Six _thousand_ metacycles my world has been in limbo, because of me, because of my drive to survive at any cost, even knowing I didn't have long once I became Toe'Emirc. Rawlind said it was his idea, that he chose me in no small part because he knew I could stay ahead of any hunter I couldn't out-fight, but it doesn't make it any easier to accept."

"A mitracycle isn't that short a lifespan either, and you don't _know_ it won't be longer," Optimus Prime murmured into her long, lightly wavy auburn hair and slid his arms around her, offering the comfort and support she seemed to need. "If you need a Si'Kae to win this challenge, what will you do?"

"When Tonen, Lyzen, Corsa and Olasia arrive, they'll come with a few hand-picked options," she said quietly, seemingly content to let him hold her protectively her for a time. "If Lyzen and Tonen are as good as Rawlind thinks they are, at least one of them will be someone I can respect enough to go through with it," she tried to explain something she hadn't honestly thought about in a very long time, and never in the context of such a limited selection.

"Who are the ones you named?" he asked her gently, looking for conversation more than information and trying to avoid looking too closely into what sounded like a forced bonding.

"Emirc Lyzen Kikn'nah, Cold Wind, was Rawlind's aid-de-camp, and mine, unless I replace her, which I don't plan on. She taught me as much as she could about politics and leadership before I had to lead. She kept trying, but I wasn't in much of a position to listen very often with a full-scale war to deal with and troops that weren't expecting to take orders from me.

"Retired Emirc Corsa Da'rei, Blood Saber, is my combat rites instructor. Pain in the aft, but she's the best alive. She taught Rawlind, and Pyre, his predecessor. I never thought a warrior could live so long, but she's just entered her fifth mitracycle.

"Cota Tonen was Rawlind's keeper of dates ... a secretary, I think, would be the translation. If it gets planned, it goes through him. It's not inaccurate to say that nothing happened on Lydrom that he didn't hear about, usually before it happened. He's what you get when two military Tezita produce a youngling completely ill-suited as be a warrior; still military, but not trained to fight beyond the most basic level.

"Master Engineer Olasia Ti'Keen, Giver of Power ... no one special to me, though she was one of Rawlind's inner circle. She can do work on par with a Singer, without the gift for it. I'll need her, to build what I need in time for the contest."

"I hope you can find a good partner," he told her sincerely. "You know why I wouldn't be able to take the offer, even if they'd let you make it."

"You've a world to take care of," she nodded and lifted her face to kiss him. "A lover, maybe even bonded if we find we're that suited, but not to be Lydrom's king. It should be a Tezitan for that post."

"Also very true - you're likely to have another war on your hands if you did otherwise," he agreed. "But for now, that's a concern some time off."

"Yes," she murmured, and kissed him again. "Do you ever dream of flying, of seeing your world from above?"

"Without a vehicle?" He asked her with a chuckle. "Actually yes, though not since I became Prime. I was very young, and very foolish, when those sort of dreams held most of their appeal."

"I know how to fly," she smiled at him. "Even if it's just in your mind, I can show you what it's like, to be free like that."

"No reason not to," he smiled, kissing her lightly before they stood. "Do you have a preferred form for it?"

"The one I know best is this," she passed the technical specs to him as she transformed directly from the human form into her jet mode. "Though it's not the most fun."

"A design from your world?" He asked her, adopting a similar form himself and following her up. He paid close attention to how she maneuvered, tested the air currents and used them to best advantage to save energy. Just how much she enjoyed it wasn't lost on him either. It was work, even for her, but it was impossible to ignore how worth it she found it.

"Someone the humans were holding in their Area 51," she said, taking a series of barrel rolls for the fun of it. "Rawlind wasn't keen on giving me a flying form, mostly for good reason."

"Too much of a distraction?" he asked her.

"That and making it even more difficult to get me to show up for the dull lessons, like political theory," she chuckled at her own actions in the past. "Flyers are more common than on Cybertron, but still relatively rare."

"That seems true almost everywhere," he said as he started to relax and enjoy it himself, considering other forms she might be interested in from what he knew of. He picked one from Kup's old war stories, along with a few modifications from Earth stories he'd heard, growing a tail and long, leathery wings.

"Koetae!" she grinned at him, following suit, though she added a flowing mane of shimmering silver hair along her long neck and bright colors as she looped around him playfully to get the feel for how bio-wings worked in this form. "They're real?"

"Crabshead Draconids, with a bit of Earth mythology mixed in," Optimus replied with a bit of a chuckle. "One of my veteran warriors back on Cybertron ran into them during his travels, along with practically everything else in the galaxy."

She shifted her form again, feathering her wings in a metallic rainbow and extending her body into more of a serpent, then added a second pair of wings well down the body. "A Kaetae'Mar, a dragon-snake," she told him and passed the information along to him, with an idea for what to do in it.

"Can't promise I can keep up with you, but it's worth a try," he told her, following her up into the higher sky over Cybertron's glittering lights from the end of the Golden Age. On many levels it was a blast from a past he barely remembered, when he and Elita-1 were young, adventurous, and fascinated by everything that could fly with any grace. A time when the Seekers, Rainmakers and other Decepticon fliers were something he admired for their skill and natural flight. A time before Megatron had tricked and killed Orion Pax.

"Shuu," Ezara's voice was right in his ear as she wrapped her long, serpentine body around his and silently coached him on how to do the same so they supported each other. Four sets of wings beat in sequence to keep them airborne. "Don't worry about then."

"No," he agreed with a groaning hiss when she shifted around and slid her end of her long body down his to capture both his cocks inside the slit of her body. "Nothing to worry about," his breath quickened as she milked him, rubbed her belly slats up and down his. Even though the sensations were largely new, he could feel from her just how erotic they were meant to be.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he couldn't help but wonder how she knew, but it wasn't a thought that occupied him for long.

-- End: Wanderer's Home 19: Toe'Emirc Prime by Fur and Fantasy


	7. Dinobots

_Fandom_: Transformers G1 season 1 + The Ultimate Guide  
_Timing_: Pre-"War of the Dinobots"  
_Pairing_: Optimus Prime/Ezara  
_Rating_: PG-13  
_Codes_: Het

_Summary_: The morning after the party, Sparkplug and Spike visit the Ark and learn just how much has happened in twenty-four hours.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home 20: Dinobots**

* * *

"Wow," Spike looked around Autobot headquarters when he arrived with his father and saw Autobots in various states of sprawl in odd places and positions. "What _happened_?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd say a drunken party," Sparkplug told him as he looked around. "A rather impressive one."

"Actually, you are precisely correct," Perceptor told them without looking up from the sample of fake Ssiii'Poemat he was analyzing. "Ezara Onyan'a, the femme we recovered from the Decepticons, woke up and officially switched sides. It was a most ... interesting ... display after that."

"Very 'interesting,'" Prowl agreed, monitoring Teletraan-1. "She has agreed to provide us with support against the Decepticons, and in retaking Cybertron after some difficulties with politics on her world are straightened out," he explained, giving them the short version.

"What did she want in return?" Sparkplug asked, noting that Jazz looked significantly worse for the wear when he walked into the room.

"Mostly support and supplies while she's waiting for them to arrive for the 'working out' process," Prowl said, taking note of an incoming message. "Assuming this message is what I expect it to be, at least."

"Sounds like you got a good deal," Sparkplug nodded. "You can get a hangover?"

"And just in time, if she'd have done the same for the Decepticons," Spike added as Prowl and Jazz did their best to understand the message.

"As soon as she realized she _could_ do it, she probably would have," Prowl agreed. "We're going to need her help for this; Jazz, would you mind getting her?"

"Sure," he nodded and turned to leave. "She might not be in a mood to deal with humans," he cautioned Spike.

"I'll stay out of the way," Spike promised, tagging along behind him towards Prime's quarters.

Jazz knocked on Optimus Prime's door, waited for a response then checked to see if it was locked. It slid open, and Spike gasped to see Ezara half on top of Optimus Prime and snuggled against his side with his arm around her, and hand resting on her hip.

"You're not surprised," Spike finally realized as Jazz walked in the room.

"Nah, they left the party together," Jazz said. "Stay at the door," he waved Spike back before he touched Ezara's shoulder lightly. He nearly jerked back from the contact when he realized Optimus Prime's mind was far 'closer' than hers, but his leader stopped him.

"What is it?" Prime asked.

"Message came in, we're sure from Lydrom," Jazz explained.

"We'll join you soon," he promised before Jazz backed out and turned to leave the room. He entered his own mindspace, sure that she'd be willing to finish their mutual exploration later. "Time to get up," he told her when she caught up with her deep in his memories of the beginning of his involvement in the war.

"Trouble?" she focused on him almost instantly.

"A message from Lydrom," he shook his head.

Ezara flicked her chin to the right and stole a kiss before returning to her own body fully and rolling off the berth to her feet. When Optimus Prime stood up, she brushed her fingers along his jaw. "Thank you."

"Fair exchange - mine's not as problematic as yours," he smiled, opening the door for her and walking with her to the bridge. "Here's hoping it's good news for you."

"I do too," she said, taking note of the rest of the team's condition. "I think the party got going after we left," she couldn't help but chuckle.

"With Ironhide and Brawn involved? I'm sure it did," he agreed with a chuckle of his own, looking around, taking quick note of who would still be combat-ready if it was necessary. He was sure Prowl had already taken note of who was the worst off, and most needed to be reminded not to overindulge so much, but it was still good to follow up himself.

"This is the message," Prowl played the twenty-five second recording for them. "It seems to be much longer than what will play."

Ezara nodded. "It's for me, encrypted," she agreed before emitting a long string of sounds that caused the full recording to play unencrypted.

"Greetings, Toe'Emirc," a brightly painted and clothed male Tezita appeared on the screen. "Included in this are the files on twenty candidates. We have room for three to come. We will depart as soon as we know your selection."

His image disappeared to be replaced by a rotating full-body image of another male, intricately painted and dressed in fine, thick fabric of dark gray. All around the image was text that none of them could read, though Jazz and Optimus Prime could pick out a few characters before the next profile appeared on the screen.

"Teletraan-1, download the message to a datapad," Ezara ordered. "I'll review them in my quarters."

"Acknowledged," the sentient computer intoned.

"Candidates for Si'kae?" Optimus Prime guessed. "They're not going to be waylaid by the government when they try to leave, will they?" he asked as the datapad was prepared.

"Yes, and they probably will be stopped, if they find out," she said simply. "Lyzen and Tonen have kept things under Ryzia's radar so far. Once they make it out of the system and up to full speed, nothing should be able to catch them."

"Good luck to them," Optimus nodded and handed the datapad to her. "We'll leave you be while you consider your options."

"Thank you," she gave a slight nod before leaving, but only after casting an unreadable look at the two humans.

"Just how clued in is she to Earth?" Sparkplug asked when she was out of the room.

"She's not entirely convinced that humans are people yet," Jazz admitted. "Largely because she hasn't worked with any of you. She's used to life that's at least twice your size."

"What does she think we are then?" Spike asked.

"Uhh... like ... Pets ... umm...," Jazz said uncomfortably. "She'll learn," he promised. "Just give 'er time and a chance to see for herself."

"Given she came from Megatron's view of Earth, we're lucky she didn't shoot us on sight," Sparkplug sighed. "How long before Wheeljack's recovered?" he glanced at the Autobot inventor, his head down and crossed arms on a table.

"We can get back to work in a couple cycles," Wheeljack said as he lifted his head on hearing his name. "Just need to get back up to normal function. Coming down off an energon rush isn't easy."

"I'll be in the lab then, join me when you're feeling normal?" Sparkplug suggested.

"Right," Wheeljack nodded gingerly. "When everyone has recovered, we should be ready to show you our latest inventions," he added to Optimus Prime.

"I'm looking forward to it - I've been wondering what you two are up to," Optimus chuckled, sitting down to review the activity reports for the last day.

* * *

He was still reviewing, and taking a rare turn on Teletraan-1 duty, when Ezara came back to the main control room.

"Have you chosen?" he asked politely.

"Yes," she flicked her chin up.

"Caurun's ship is on the surface," Optimus Prime told her before she could ask for it. "I understand that he was contacted that his hunt is off."

"Good," she relaxed fractionally. "I want to talk to you after I send this," she lifted the datapad before walking off.

"All right," he nodded, signaling for Prowl to come back down while he spoke with Ezara. It wasn't long before they were both in the control room, and she had the determined expression of someone who was about to do something unpleasant to them.

"I'll need a few things to be presentable when the first ship arrives in two metacycles," she began with little preamble when she had Optimus Prime's full attention. "Several colors of paint, gold, silver, crystals, and a uniform made to spec. What is a fair trade to the humans for these things?" she handed him a datapad with an itemized and very specific list, right down to the molecular configuration of the materials.

"Approximately two energon cubes, or at least the supplies to create them," Optimus Prime said after considering the list. "It won't be hard to collect them in the time frame you need."

"Good," she relaxed a bit more. "Have you had time to gather any information on the probable Decepticon missions?"

"Earlier this morning," he nodded. "Prowl and Perceptor will be running scenarios until Wheeljack and Sparkplug are ready to show us their latest project."

"Speaking o'which, everybody's stand'n again," Jazz grinned at them. "I want to see this project."

"Let's show you what my Dad can do," Spike grinned, starting down the hall ahead of the others, excited for the chance to prove to Ezara that humans were smart.

Optimus Prime and Ezara chuckled, leaving Prowl to watch Teletraan-1.

"Good, good," Wheeljack said as he saw the gathering. "Prowl's on watch?" he guessed.

"Yes," Optimus Prime nodded. "What have you created?"

"Prime, Ezara, Autobots, may we present the Dinobots!" Wheeljack said and removed the drape covering the five robots with a flourish.

"How did you work around the lack of Sparks?" Perceptor asked, considering the five large mechs.

"Computer brains," Sparkplug told them. "They are limited, compared to you, but they can think for themselves."

"Very impressive, all the same," Prime agreed. "Personalities?"

"Why don't you introduce yourselves?" Wheeljack turned to his creations.

"Me Grimlock. Me strong," the first one said. "Me leader."

"Me Slag," another responded. "Me like to fight."

"Me Sludge," the largest of them responded. "Me, um, follow strongest."

"Me Snarl," the forth added grudgingly.

"Me Swoop," the last all but cawed like a bird.

"We adapted their forms from the bones we found in the caverns attached to the crash site," Wheeljack explained.

"I helped fill in some of the blanks from the bones," Sparkplug added. "Why don't you show them your alternate forms?" He suggested, taking a step back to make sure he was out of the area they'd take up.

The group transformed into their huge dinosaur forms, with Swoop lifting into the air.

"Very impressive," Optimus Prime said as he considered them. Though she remained silent, he didn't need a touch to know Ezara was anything but impressed at the moment, and he couldn't blame her, really. Not with what he knew of her world and how the Tezita created new members of society.

Jazz moved close enough to transmit a brief message to her. "We've never managed to do this before," he pointed out.

That got her attention focused squarely on him. "Seriously? How _do_ you produce younglings?" she asked silently with a touch.

"We don't. You build a body, and Vector Sigma draws a Spark from Cybertron's core to run it," he explained the same way. "Creating mechs with personalities and minds of their own, even ones this basic - that's _never_ been done."

"Oh," she murmured, looking at the dinosaur-robots with a new perspective. "Do you know if they are alive, like us?" she asked Wheeljack curiously.

"Me Grimlock alive!" The T-Rex announced angrily, stomping a foot on the floor, rattling the ship. It was a chorus the others took up, adding their rumbles to the disruption.

"She didn't mean it like that," Wheeljack tried to calm his creations as Ezara took a step back, considering the group with a calculating expression but no trace of fear.

"Me Slag don't care," the triceratops announced. "Me Slag destroy!" he opened his mouth to send a thick stream of magma towards Ezara.

"Slag needs to learn who's boss," Ezara grinned at him and launched in a high ark to land on the triceratops' back. "You and I understand this rule," she all but purred as she dug her claws into his back and pulled every trace of energy she could from him.

She didn't have long to do it before Sludge spun around, his tail slamming into her and sending her crashing back into the wall, the massive brontosaurus charging towards her as she rolled to the floor.

The Autobots opened fire on him as Ratchet rushed to try to pull her out of the way, but she was up and moving first. Without hesitation, she lunged at the brontosaurus, transforming into her feral form to latch onto his chest. Claws and teeth gouged huge chunks from his armor and circuits before Swoop nailed her from above and tore her off him.

The Pteranodon dropped her off against one of the walls along with a bomb, Snarl and Grimlock moving to cut the other Autobots off, trying to drive them back as Wheeljack brought his magnetic inducer around to try and subdue his new creations with as little damage as possible.

"What's th....Stars!" Caurun gasped as he bolted into Wheeljack's workshop just in time to see the bomb go off in Ezara's lap. He opened fire on the Pteranodon, tearing holes in his wings.

"I've got 'em," Wheeljack announced, firing his inducer, deactivating their computer brains. The five Dinobots all shut down, falling to the ground or simply slumping over where they stood, if they were on enough feet to support themselves.

Caurun rushed to Ezara, his body language slumping in relief when she moved and accepted his offer of a hand up.

"Now _those_ are a weapon," she said with unabashed approval.

"Yes, but it would be _best_ if our weapons weren't prone to turning on _us_," Prime said pointedly, looking at Wheeljack. "What went wrong?"

"Their brains are too simple," he said thoughtfully. "Too much aggression, too little intellect to control it. I might be able to use some of my memory chips to enhance them, but it'll take some time."

"Don't reactivate them until it's been done," Prime told him. "And finish repairing the Ark first. We need to know what sort of damage was done," he said, looking back at a hole that had been burned through the bulkhead by Slag's magma blast and the large dent Ezara had caused when she'd impacted.

"Looks like damage was restricted to the lab," Ezara said as she glanced around. "Would you like help with the upgrades?" she asked Wheeljack politely. "This is something the Tezita are very familiar with."

"Certainly," he nodded. "It's not something we've done, so your approach might give us better results."

And it would give her a chance to work with Sparkplug a bit, with any luck.

"If nothing else, Mitrix knows how to rebuild an AI so it's controllable," Ezara agreed. "Let's get them on the tables and see what we have to work with," she said as much to herself as anyone. "Sparkplug," she focused on the human, much to everyone's surprise. "You helped design them?"

"Wheeljack did most of the programming, but I helped put them together. Need them back in their default forms?" He guessed.

"It would be useful," she nodded. "Talk technical while I work," she said, her tone not quite an order, but beyond a request.

-- End: Wanderer's Home 20: Dinobots by Fur and Fantasy


	8. Proving Her Worth

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Skywarp/Ezara, Optimus Prime/Ezara  
_Rating_: NC-17 for M/F  
_Codes_: Het, Bondage, Violence  
_Summary_: Ezara has her first serious battle against the Decepticons, and while she proves a formidable fighter, she also displays her less than perfect judgment.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home 21: Proving Her Worth**

* * *

"The spacebridge isn't far ahead ... no signs of Decepticons yet," Hound told Prime when he came back from a brief recon trip. "They _were_ there, but it looks like they might've moved on."

"That might give _us_ a chance to get back home," Mirage offered. "At least long enough to get some reinforcements and supplies," he added quickly.

"Caurun's ship can make Cybertron in a orn," Ezara reminded him, her hovercar form taking the lead in the convoy. "Once mine is recharged, so can it. Small, but fast."

"Yes, but if the space-bridge _is_ available, we can move more through it," Optimus Prime granted. "It's worth checking out."

"And it gives us an opening to take out Shockwave we wouldn't normally get," Ezara agreed. "Something's up ahead. Shielded, but there."

"Shielded how?" Prime asked her, the convoy slowing down.

"I'm not sure, but I can feel Skywarp and Megatron are close, but it's not nearly the strength it should be," she tried to explain something that amounted to a set of sensors they didn't have and she never thought about. "They are close, badly injured or hiding."

"No longer!" Megatron announced, he and the others bursting out of hiding, his cannon firing on Prime before the Autobot could transform and get clear of his trailer.

Ezara instantly began her transformation to her airborne form and put full power into making altitude, expecting the Seekers to take off after her.

"Break off," Skywarp warned her. "Don't want you hurt for them!"

"You don't have to say with the Decepticons," she countered, veering around to open fire on Starscream. "You or Thunder. You have a choice. You'd do well on Lydrom."

"No, I don't," he told her, moving to put himself between her and his wing-leader, before an explosion above her sent her careening towards the ground.

"What the?" Ezara snarled as she pulled out, spinning slightly she went straight up, intent on getting the advantage of altitude. "Prime, there are new ones!"

"So that's who they brought back over," Ironhide growled, opening fire on the other jets up above. "Rainmakers at twelve o'clock!"

"Brawn, make a break for the space bridge - we have to stop Megatron from getting more reinforcements through," Prime ordered him, only partially transformed due to the damage from Megatron's initial blast. Only his legs were disabled, but it left him prone, laying down suppressing fire as Ratchet worked to make field repairs.

"I'll try to keep the fliers occupied," Ezara transmitted on a scrambled frequency to Prime. She dove down, taking advantage of her superior height to open fire on anything with wings below her. Thundercracker screamed as she blasted his engines, and a red jet fled when she tore into his left wing.

She felt the fear rising in her at a rumbling sound, even as Singer suppressed her reaction with a counter-tune. The ones down below didn't have that advantage. Whatever it was, it was creating chaos in the Autobot ranks, Bumblebee and Sunstreaker both breaking off from the rest of the unit.

"Where?" she hissed at Singer, but couldn't get a response before Starscream and Thundercracker caught her in a crossfire that would have hurt like hell if it hasn't been lasers. She flipped on her tail and unloaded a barrage of homing missiles on the pair before focusing her attention on the blue jet that was emitting the infuriating vibrations that were screwing with her processors.

Bullets slammed into her just before a much larger, heavier object did - who in their right mind rammed in mid air?

A Decepticon, she could feel it in the body touching hers, one of the new ones. She didn't know him. Not yet.

With little concern for the impending impact with the ground, she lashed out with the full strength of her collective minds, transforming to latch onto him in feral mode as she crashed through mental barriers unprepared for an assault.

Ramjet hit the ground hard, leaving a crater as she heard a pair of heavy engines roaring down at her from above, more bullets ripping through the dirt crawling towards her. A blast from Optimus sent Thrust spinning off, buying her a few moments to identify Starscream on the battlefield again. His right engine was smoking, damaged from her missile, but he was still in the air commanding his fighters.

It was all that was needed to send her into a full rage as she launched, transforming to jet mode and putting her full power into her thrusters as she rushed him.

He tried shifting out of the way, but she followed him easily, changing to her feral form just before she connected. As they fell, she ripped into his body, bringing him plummeting towards the Earth even faster. He was partially transformed before they hit, and managed to get a glancing shot off from his nullifier.

It slowed her down, but not enough to stop her from tearing his entire left arm off in her jaws and driving two of her three sets of claws into his chassis.

He couldn't help the scream of pain, or the string of half-coherent pleading, as she focused her strength and drove her claws deeper, spreading the huge gash. She bit down on his face, trying to shut him up while she rended him in half.

A powerful blast collided with her tail end, propelling her off her prey and sending her danger sensors into a full panic. She struggled upright, her rear legs largely useless ... no, largely gone ... when a concentrated attack by two of the three remaining fliers knocked her over and pushed her back towards Starscream. She felt, more than was aware, of the next powerful blast that damaged her enough to force her into base mode.

Someone picked her up by the neck ... Megatron she recognized absently, her systems too focused on repairing critical damage to care much about what he was saying, or doing, in the physical realm.

Even as he made demands, he entered her mind. It couldn't have come as more of a surprise that she wasn't completely on guard against him. He could easily see where the others, her predecessors, had locked off the bulk of her memories and access to the sensitive intel, but they couldn't block his access to her. Not without her cooperation at least.

What he couldn't tell is if this was a trap, or if her hunger for the domination no Autobot could provide was so strong she welcomed an enemy.

With her body already in ruins, her ability to affect the battle by her actions gone, she reached out to him, sliding along his mental presence with a welcoming warmth and thoughts dripping in desire he wanted to indulge.

"You've got my word, Megatron - we'll back away," Optimus agreed. "Now let her go!" He said, motioning for his mechs to start falling back.

"Optimus, I've got the charges placed," Brawn transmitted silently.

"Sorry," Ezara murmured, neither of them entirely sure whether it was audible or not, as her mind was abruptly locked away and Megatron ejected from it.

Even as the Decepticon registered that, he could feel her began to transform, the sharp metal of her body cutting into his hand, forcing him to let go. Long, sharp claws dug into his frame, tearing long gashes and giving her a purchase to bring powerful jaws into play.

She clamped down on his head. Without even thinking, Megatron rotated his arm to force his cannon against her belly and fired. The blast practically spun her around his head, but her jaw remained locked even as she went limp, all but cut in two with a more than half her torso and a fair amount below that vaporized from the three hits she'd taken from him in as many minutes.

"No!" Skywarp and Optimus Prime both shouted as they rushed forward from different directions.

Optimus blasted Megatron's cannon, knocking it off of his arm. Skywarp was there a moment later, helping to pry Ezara's jaws open.

The moment Megatron was free, he lunged sideways, going for his cannon while Skywarp all but pushed Ezara's fractured body into Optimus Prime's arms.

"You gave your word," Skywarp hissed at him before stepping away to help Megatron into the air while explosions went off in the distance.

"Decepticons, retreat!" Megatron called out, sending his troops scrambling to pick up their wounded and take off.

"Ratchet, get her stabilized," Optimus ordered, shifting back into his truck form and opening the trailer so he could work on repairs en route to the base.

"What a mess," Ratchet grumbled, though he went to work right away stopping her from leaking out more energon. "At least his cannon cauterized the main wound.

"Small favors - we'll have her back at your shop as soon as possible," Prime told him, transmitting a message ahead to prepare an energon bath for her. He'd have to talk to her about taking these sort of chances again.

* * *

Three days.

In three days she looked whole again. The more Perceptor, Ratchet and Wheeljack studied her repairing herself, the more they understood just how different her technology was.

Perceptor was still sure there was a common base to Cybertronian design far in the past, but Optimus Prime wasn't so sure any more. Not once Perceptor realized that her body mass was roughly seventy percent nanite, and only thirty percent mechanical. It explained much of her ability to survive, and her more unusual abilities, but it made her that much more alien as well.

It didn't help any when Perceptor took a very close look at Caurun and discovered that he was purely mechanical. Caurun had just shrugged and said she was military, and military were _different_, but it was unsettling to understand just how different Tezita military were from Tezita civilians. They could easily be completely different species, even if they didn't claim it was so.

Prime reached into the energon bath, touching her lightly, contacting her mind.

"Do you want to get out of there for a while?" He asked her silently. "Or should I come in?"

"You're always welcome," Ezara all but purred, the tone of her mindscape backing up her words.

He moved in through the link, adopting the human form he'd used the last time he was there. He found himself in her quarters, looking out over a vibrant city still showing some signs of massive damage, but well on its way to repair.

"Does it always reflect your physical condition?" he glanced over his shoulder to look at her, noting the Lydrom form she was in matched his height, and was wearing clothing similar to the dress he had ordered for her. It was lovely, delicate, and showed off her dark blue skin and short fur beautifully.

"In general," Ezara nodded, stepping up behind him and running her hands across his shoulders, her chest warm against his back. "It's how I learned to view myself, assess my condition, and repair myself. Fix the mind, fix the body. When one is whole, so's the other. The medics like it."

"Connected to how much of your body is nanotechnology?" He guessed, trying to keep his focus when her chin rested on his shoulder and her interests were elsewhere.

"Likely," she murmured close to his ear as her hands ran down his strong arms. "It's a military method anyway."

"And the military are different, as Caurun says so often," he agreed. "We need to talk about what happened, before you get too far," he told her, taking her hands as they worked lower down his body. It was no small relief when she didn't contest his priorities.

"I became too focused on Starscream, I know," she sighed, her chin still resting on his shoulder. "I made poor tactical decisions in my desire to kill him. I've been chastised about that already."

"I was thinking more about what happened with Megatron. He got you because of Starscream, but what happened after ... what possessed you to attack him that way?"

He felt her retreat, not from him physically, but from the question.

Her hands rested on his biceps, her breath was warm on his cheek as she worked herself up to answering, and he gave her the time. It was one of those stark reminders that for all her power and authority and access to the wisdom and experience of her predecessors, she was _young_.

And the young did foolish, impulsive things.

He only had to remember how Orion Pax had died to find forgiveness for it in others.

"Possessed is probably the right word for it," she murmured, her voice low. "The others _really_ don't like Megatron."

"Which one?" He asked her first, and most importantly to his mind. "And do you know why?"

"Pyre, I think. Maybe Delta Six," she said quietly. "Rawlind, Mitrix and Singer too were busy kicking and locking Megatron out. Why...." she sighed deeply. "Because they don't approve of how I ... respond ... to him. And they know they don't have anything to counter it other than getting in the way and trying to prove just how bad an idea it is."

"How do you respond to him?" He asked, turning around to face her. "Don't worry about upsetting me - I just need to know what I'm dealing with."

She shifted a bit, torn between the acceptance she'd always had of her desires and what had been drilled into her processors later in life.

"I melt," she summed it up, grateful when she saw recognition cross his features. "Yeah, what you saw was more my idea than his. He just does it _very_ well. Not many can."

"_I_ need you to avoid that," he told her, seriously. "I need to know that I can rely on you in the field. Especially with what's going to come, in our plans," he pointed out, kissing her gently.

Ezara flicked her chin up slightly. "I know. I've never let someone take advantage of it in the arena, and I won't here, even if they don't believe me."

Optimus' look prompted for more even as he drew her against him, recognizing that in this moment, she was just a young warrior well out of her depth.

"When I let him in, I knew everything important was blocked off," she murmured, kissing along his neck. "I knew my body was too broken to help in the battle. I was hoping someone would realize he was distracted enough with my head and take him out. I ... it hadn't registered yet that no Autobot would take the shot. Any Lydrom warrior would have."

"Even if we killed him, there's a chance the last thing he'd do would be to fire on his captive," Optimus agreed. "You can't take risks like that."

"When that captive is me, it's not much of a risk," she countered, though there was only the faintest touch of rebellion to it; little enough he didn't worry about her acting on it. "He did fire, three times, and I survive."

He felt what she didn't say, that if the captive was anyone of lower rank, of less importance in the big picture, it was a worthwhile trade of lives. It took effort, but he suppressed his harshest reaction to it with a reminder to himself that she was brought up to believe that death came young and a good death was one that helped the cause.

It was everything he didn't like to believe in, but he understood exactly why she thought the way she did. It was the price of war sometimes. It was a bitter, hard truth for him, but it simply _was_ to her.

"It is not acceptable to me," he told her firmly. "Whether it is you, or one of my Autobots, or a human. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she let out an unhappy sound. "Letting someone die to kill a bigger target is not acceptable."

"If Megatron falls, there are others who can take his place," he offered, trying to explain something that he _knew_ on a level more primal than merely a dislike of killing. "Starscream, Shockwave, the Quintessons ... there are others. Just stopping him won't end the war. It might be different if it would, but while stopping him will be a part of it... it won't be the only part. The humans didn't choose to be part of this war - we have a responsibility to _try_ and protect them from the collateral damage it causes. The war... it's more than just a civil war. It's a battle for what Cybertron _is_, and what it will be. As strange as it will sound, in a very real sense, it is ultimately a war of ideals, with very real consequences regarding which ones win."

"Humans are like civvies," she flicked her chin up in understanding and acceptance. "What _will_ end the war, short of eliminating everyone opposing you?"

"Convincing them to rejoin the relatively peaceful population - reuniting our kind," he explained. "It _is_ possible that if we can stop Megatron and Starscream, some sort of reconciliation can be achieved. There's something different about the Decepticons, but nobody's entirely sure what it is - we think it might be some sort of flaw in their programming that can be fixed, turn them back into contributing members of society."

"Like Starscream was, before he turned," Ezara said. "Still, taking out the leaders is the key. Some level of loss has to be acceptable to cut the head off the enemy."

"Some level, but not you," he told her, brushing her cheek gently with his fingers. "There's too much riding on that - besides, I gave Skywarp my word I'd keep you safe," he pointed out with a smile.

"A promise I'm inherently ill-suited to helping you keep," she couldn't help but chuckle as she turned her face to kiss his fingers. "But I'll try," said told him seriously. It wasn't quite a promise, but it was close.

"That's all I ask... don't take chances you don't have to," he smiled, kissing her tenderly, his hands coming up to her breasts. "Why don't I show you the softer side?" He offered. "There's more to pleasure than force and dominance."

"So I'm learning," she arched into his touch lightly. "Jazz can be quite convincing," she shivered as he lowered his head to take one nipple into his mouth while his hands roamed her body, tracing the lines of muscle, bone and pleasure. "So can you."

"I do my best," he chuckled, licking her nipple before he kissed her again, coming up with a leather strap that he used to bind her hands together above her head, suspending her from a hook in the ceiling so she had to extend her legs fully to support herself. "A middle-ground?" He suggested, kissing her throat.

"Ohhh, yes," Ezara moaned, spreading her legs and sliding her tail out of the way.

He could feel the intensity of the simple restraint on her responses. Whether or not he understood it, there was no way he could discount just how much this increased her pleasure.

Optimus trailed kisses down her body, paying special attention to her firm nipples before he licked her sex, down one side and up the other, working her clit with his lips when he found it. Her moans, the way she trembled at every little touch, was intoxicating and pleasurable in it's own right for him. Even more so for the unabashed honestly behind it.

How long had it been since Elita-1 had responded with such need? He still loved her, he always would, but there was something intense about youthful enthusiasm he'd long forgotten that he missed; they'd been so comfortable with each other for so long.

He slid his tongue up into her, slicking a finger with her juices and tested her response to a little attention to her anus, thinking back to all the different things he'd tried when he was younger, first experimenting with a biological form for this sort of thing.

The moan he dragged out of her matched the way she trembled and relaxed her anus. Willing, pleasurable, but a secondary preference.

He silently thanked Primus that she was so unguarded. It made experimenting so much easier when he barely had to touch to know her real reaction. Her wants were so clear, even as he felt her hold back. No doubt the things Megatron did to her.

He was thankful for that too. The brief glimpses he'd seen were far more than he wanted to know about his archrival's appetites.

"P-please," Ezara gasped, her entire body trembling violently and her legs spread wide.

"Please what?" Optimus asked as he ran his tongue slowly from the edge of her anus to her clit. He felt the strength of her tremors through his hands on her thighs. While she struggled for words, he used his thumbs to spread her labia lips wide, exposing her most intimate parts to the cool air.

She stiffened and whimpered shamelessly, tensing against her bonds to both prolong and intensify the building pleasure between her legs.

"P-please take me," she finally managed to get out.

"Soon," he promised, licking her from her entrance up to her clit, then standing and kissing her as he rubbed his stiff shaft against her between the folds of her labia, pressing his tongue into her mouth.

She whimpered into the contact and pressed her hips against his as she kissed him back. Her sounds turned to a moan when he ran his hands down her sides to hold her hips, taking control of her movements as she trembled.

He took a brief moment to read what she wanted most, then moved around behind her, sliding one hand and up to her breasts, the other to her hips, pulling her back against him as he slid his cock between her legs. His kissed her neck, shifting to slide himself inside of her with a low groan. He felt her energy dance in the skin she'd created as he thrust, slow and deep, savoring every fraction of a nanoklik of the contact and the intensity of her reaction.

Without even thinking, he tapped into her desires and used them, touching her and pleasuring her to draw out every moan and whimper. He took her right to the edge of ecstasy and backed off, again and again, until his own body burned with need to stop and began to refuse his commands as survival instinct took over.

Having 'filled' her so many times already, he needed to recharge - in the back of his mind, he knew he was trying to absorb the energon his hand was in. Instead, he finally let her reach her own climax, taking some of the energy that she offered so freely with her pleasure.

As she came down from the peak of her pleasure, her body slumped against the restraints and she panted, utterly exhausted despite the energy she had absorbed.

"That ... was ... intense," she gasped, more than willing to have him still buried inside her as her shoulders took the bulk of her weight.

"Why don't I let you down?" He smiled, kissing her neck from behind. "Mmm ... so, how do you like a little more tenderness?" He asked, undoing the strap around her wrists and catching her as she worked to be steady on her feet.

"I like this idea of tender," Ezara murmured, more than a little glazed over as she found her balance and slid her arms around his neck before claiming a lingering, gentle kiss. "But do you?"

"Mmm ... I'm still working on the bondage part, but the rest of it was very enjoyable, if draining," he chuckled, kissing her back.

"Too draining?" she offered to pass some of her charge to him, clearly enjoying being held and letting him support her.

"A little," he admitted, kissing her gently as he felt at least half of the energy he'd given her returned. It was more than he expected; more than enough for him to wait until his normal recharge time unless there was a battle. "I should get back to my station. You keep putting yourself back together - and don't take so many chances," he smiled.

"All right," she reluctantly let him go and stepped back. "I'll play it safer," she did promise.

"Thank you," he said, disconnecting from her to go back to his station.


	9. Illicit Encounter

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Skywarp/Ezara  
_Rating_: NC-17  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary_: On the way home from meeting the man in charge of creating her costume, Ezara ditches Jazz and steals some time for Skywarp.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home 22: Illicit Encounter**

* * *

Ezara's flight to India was a long, lazy one, so she didn't out-pace Jazz. "The quality is really so much better here, that it's worth the travel?"

"For the style you're lookin' for, yep," Jazz replied. "They're used to that here, 'n the tailor we'll be meetin' with is 'o of the best - _and_ the most used to workin' with your type of materials. There's the factory," he pointed to a large building in the middle of an overcrowded city. "It'll be fine," he reached out to touch her arm lightly when she transformed to her base mode for landing. "They're good people."

Ezara nodded slightly, and landed very carefully in the loading zone at the back of the factory. He could feel that she still has to make an effort to remember humans were people, but she was making the effort, and he was sure the long hours with Sparkplug over Dinobot schematics were doing a lot of good. Overall, it was a marked improvement over three weeks earlier.

A well-dressed, dark-skinned man came out and waved to them. "Greetings, my friends," his English was perfect, with only a light accent. "It is good to finally meet the one all this excitement is over."

"A pleasure to see you too, Vajrani," Jazz said. "I hope this isn't gonna be too big a problem for ye?"

"Not at all!" Vajrani said easily. "I always keep a portion of my floor for special jobs. This will be a joy; how many men can truly say they've made clothes for the ruler of a planet, in a style like nothing on this world?"

"Only you," Jazz grinned at him. "May I introduce Toe'Emirc Ezara Onyan'a of the Vistra, the military ruler of Lydrom," he bowed and motioned to her with a flourish.

Vajrani bowed politely, looking up at her when he rose. "Toe'Emirc, welcome to my establishment. If you will come inside, I have refreshments for the both of you, and we can discuss your order?" He suggested, motioning towards a large storeroom he had set aside and furnished for this meeting.

"Yes," she nodded and followed him inside, Jazz right behind her.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable," Vajrani motioned to the two mech-sized overstuffed chairs as he climbed to a platform that would put him closer to eye level with the pair when he sat down. "I have reviewed the specifics and I do not foresee any difficulty in completing it within the timeframe."

"Good," Ezara relaxed in the chair and took the delicate glass she recognized from Jazz's set, filled with glittering black energon. "The translucence of the fabric is of great importance, more than it's durability, if necessary. My markings must be visible through it."

"It won't be a problem," he reassured her. "If I may ask, how important are the exact materials used for the clothes?" He asked her. "We have some that would make them more durable for their translucence. They are typically used for celebrities, dancers, and figure skaters, but they would work exquisitely for your purposes."

Ezara thought about it, double-checked with Rawlind and Singer, and flicked her chin to the right. "As long as it's organic, the exact material is less important than the effect."

"Like Cybertron, Lydrom is a completely mechanical world," Jazz added. "As such, anything of organic origin is of extreme value."

"Thus far more suited for one of importance," Vajrani nodded in understanding. "It will be more difficult to make durable, but I do have options for you," he told her easily.

"Durability is of little importance," Ezara told him easily and sipped her drink. "It only needs to survive a few hours, until the welcoming is done, then I will have a uniform from home to wear."

"Ah," he nodded in full comprehension of what she was after, at least in function.

"The final result, when I am wearing it, should look like this," she placed a holoprojector on the platform and turned it on. The image that appeared was human-sized, and showed her in full body paint, her entire form glittering in the light with complex patterns in a dozen colors. The loose, flowing garment draped on her shoulders and hips would be barely legal on a human if it wasn't translucent.

As displayed, with what she would look like wearing it, the pattern and translucence, Vajrani saw the full effect that he hadn't understood before. It went from an alien idea with her simple chrome finish to something beautiful. Still alien, but a walking piece of art where the garment's vulnerability to damage was part of the appeal.

"I can do this for you," he told her confidently. "How soon will it need to be completed?"

"In roughly two years," she told him. "I will have a date closer to when they arrive."

"Easily done," he nodded, full of confidence. "Will you be available for a fitting, when it is close to completion?"

"Of course," Ezara agreed. "I can be contacted through the Autobots when you need my presence."

"Thank you. May we keep this model?" he motioned to the hologram. "It will be most useful."

Ezara glanced at Jazz, who nodded.

"No prob," Jazz grinned. "It's yours."

"I will let you know when we are ready for a fitting," Vajrani nodded easily. "Enjoy your time in India, and your trip home."

"Thank you," Ezara said and stood with Jazz.

He brushed a hand lightly against her arm. "You did good in there," he smiled, keeping the conversation silent.

"Thanks," she smiled back before the contact was broken as they took off and she transformed into her jet mode. She couldn't play with her speed, but it was good practice in close-quarters maneuvering, and Jazz was a willing target.

"How are things going with the Dinobots?" Jazz asked her as they traveled.

"Very well," she grinned. "The bodies are easy to repair, the processor upgrades and programming changes will take time, but the integrations seemed to go well so far. It's a lot of work, and boring as anything to listen to Mitrix and Wheeljack talk for hours on end about things I don't even begin to understand. He likes her though."

"He likes anybody who can keep up with him without going too deep into the Perceptor-zone," Jazz laughed. "When you're talkin' about the brains, there's Ratchet, there's Wheeljack an' then there's Perceptor - the rest of us need a translator when he gets going."

"That's true with any specialist," she laughed easily. "I'm used to translating, with the number of them I live with."

"How's it been, working with Sparkplug?" he asked her, taking the chance to open the topic of humans.

"Odd," she admitted. "It's still hard to think about that level of conversation coming out of a creature that small, but even Rawlind agreed you have to be people-smart to do what he's done in front of us. Training and mimicry only go so far. Then you have to understand what you're doing, and he understands."

"Very well," Jazz agreed, pleased that she was coming around. "He came from working an oil rig to working with Wheeljack in a matter of weeks," he pointed out.

"Oil rigs must be complicated," Ezara said, curious about the leap. "Or he was not put to good use."

"A bit of both," Jazz chuckled. "He says the work pays well, and it was a good shot for Spike. Y'have to remember too, good mechanics are more important to us than to humans."

"I suppose so," she considered it. It made sense, in a way. Modern humans, their way of life, was as dependent on mechanics, but their survival as a species wasn't. "Why does he keep Spike's mother away from us? He hasn't spoken of her yet."

"He doesn't keep her away," Jazz explained. "She died giving birth to him - it's another problem with bio-life. The others haven't even thought to ask about it," he admitted.

"Oh," Ezara murmured. "He's done well to raise a youngling alone."

"I certainly think so," Jazz agreed. "Especially once I found out what's _involved_ in it. Sparkplug's invested almost twenty-three percent of his life expectancy into raising Spike, with more to go. So much simpler the way we do things."

"You really come out knowing everything you need to, fully mature?" she asked as she did a long, slow barrel roll around him. "It didn't feel that way, not to Optimus."

"No way!" Jazz laughed. "But at least we come out talking and toilet trained!"

"You're joking," Ezara stilled her rotation momentarily. "They can't talk when they're born? How do they survive if they can't communicate?"

"They have to learn how to talk," Jazz confirmed. "And mostly by having _very_ understanding parents to care for them, sometimes almost constantly."

"Wow. How long are they helpless?" she asked, fascinated by the very idea of being dependant for survival, rather than just a leg-up in life.

"Usually about seven years, maybe a little longer, before they can start to help out seriously. Then it's about another ten or so before they can try getting by on their own reliably. So it's about a quarter of their expected lifespan, roughly," Jazz told her. "And that's just picking up life-skills and such, not counting the time before they've really gotten over the 'stupid, gullible, impetuous kid' phase."

"That is an unbelievable investment in a youngling," she said in amazement, stung slightly by the reminder that she wasn't out of the 'stupid, gullible, impetuous kid' phase. "How do they maintain their population that way?"

"A human woman can have one a metacycle, sometimes more often. It's common to have two to five children," he explained. "Sometimes they have more. Hey!" He had to jerk out of the way as she almost fell on top of him when she put too much into processing and not enough into maintaining her position.

"Sorry," Ezara murmured. "That's ... it's just unbelievable. Even breeders don't produce five in a _ganon_! And never while they are still raising one. Not unless the Spark splits in two when created," she added belatedly as she remembered about twins.

"Most animals will breed to death," Jazz tried to explain. "Humans are one of the few who are not constantly pregnant or lactating. They still have this planet populated over capacity."

"Wow," she murmured again, trying to wrap her processors around it. "Mind if I stretch my wings?" she asked politely. "I'll meet you back at HQ."

"Just be careful," Jazz looked over at her. "You're...."

"I know, I won't get in a fight," she promised. "I'm faster than anything on this planet, or Cybertron for that matter. I can get out."

"All right," he agreed, only slightly reluctant. It wasn't that he doubted her word, or that it was the truth, so much that he had a fairly good idea how much of an enemy she had in Megatron right now. "Just be back before dark at the Ark."

"Agreed," she all but grinned across the transmission. Her engines powered up and she shot forward, swooping down and left while still in visual range to skim over the water. Then she was vertical, and he lost sight of her.

"I hope that won't be a mistake," Jazz murmured to himself as he continued home.

* * *

::Ezara,:: Skywarp's communication caught her by surprise, but gave her enough warning before he warped in next to her that she wasn't startled into shooting at him.

"Change your mind?" she asked as they began a lazy aerial dance.

"About ... uh, no," he answered. "I... just wanted to see you were okay. You shouldn't have attacked Megatron like that."

"He had me by the throat," she pointed out with a sigh, not wanting to make it more confusing by trying to explain what had actually happened.

"But he wouldn't have hurt you if you'd been still," Skywarp persisted. "He doesn't _want_ to hurt you, baby. He'll give you what you want. You'll be Air Commander, he'll let you kill Starscream ... he'll be your lover," he added much more reluctantly.

"Sky," her tone was gentle as they spiraled around each other as they rose into the upper atmosphere. "I'm the ruler of Lydrom. Decepticon Air Commander is a demotion. But I have a place for you. A flier is valuable, as is your ability to warp. You know I'm a better leader than Starscream, and a much better lover."

"You are," he consented. "I'm a Decepticon, Ezara. It's all I'll ever be."

"Then I'll see you when you decide you can trust me more than Megatron," she said before breaking away and powering up enough to leave him behind.

::Wait!:: Skywarp radioed to her and warped ahead to catch up when she slowed down to near his top speed. "Wait, don't leave like that."

"What else is there to talk about?" she asked him as she angled their flight path towards the Ark.

"Maybe nothing," he said, struggling for anything to keep her from taking off again. "But ... you're not an Autobot."

"I'm allied with them," she pointed out. "We are on opposing sides of this war. I'm sorry Skywarp. It's already going to hurt enough when you're killed."

"I've survived a lot," he objected. "I was in this war from the beginning and I'm still alive. I'll be around a long time."

"Not ... I'm sorry," she said again as she sped up, though not quite to the point he couldn't keep up. "My presence changes things. More than even I anticipate. The only way I can protect you is if you're at my side. You don't need to fight the Decepticons, you don't need to ally with the Autobots. Just ... be mine."

"Just?" he asked, pushing his engines to keep up with her and keenly aware of how fast they were approaching Autobot territory. "I'm a warrior, a Seeker. I'm not...."

"You aren't just a plaything, any more than I am," Ezara told him and slowed down and angled off her course somewhat. "You'll have wars to fight, enemies to destroy, glory to claim as my warrior. Just not as a Decepticon _or_ Autobot, or against them. You protected me when I couldn't protect myself. I know the risks you've taken for me. Let me return it. Let me give you a chance at something more than the lowest-ranked Seeker."

"But that's what I _am_," he repeated. "I'm a _Seeker_. I'm a _Decepticon_."

"And I am master and lord of Lydrom," Ezara reminded him. "I have more power and authority than Megatron does. I can _make_ you anything."

Skywarp fell silent, instinctively drawn to her strength as a leader and the certainty she spoke with the same way he was drawn to Megatron and Starscream.

He wanted to believe her. He wanted to follow her. He wanted her back.

"I'm a Decepticon," he finally said, though there was no pride behind it.

"And I am Vistra," Ezara answered in kind. "We ... our allies are far away. We can be just Skywarp and Ezara for a few hours," she suggested hesitantly. "The atoll ahead."

"Gladly," he replied, veering off to head for it. "There's more to it than just choice, Ezara," he let her know. "If that was it ... I'd probably have tried staying with you."

"Tell me," she said as they transformed and landed. "I want to understand what is holding you to them."

"If you'd gone through it, you would," he told her as she stepped close and brushed his cheek with her fingers. "Becoming a Decepticon wasn't as simple as just being recruited. You didn't just go through a few tests and get branded. The arena picked out the ones of us who wanted _battle_, that you can understand. But the Forge... it made us something different," he said, trying to put words to something that was difficult even for him to understand. "When we came out of it, we _were_ Decepticons. It's all we are, all we _can_ be, anymore. Autobots have come over to our side, but it's never gone the other way - there's a reason for that."

"I do understand," she whispered into his mind as she kissed him in the physical and mental realm. "We don't call it the Forge, or anything really. But the difference between military and civvies in the Tezita is far more than temperament and mindset or training. I began a civvie, fought for my status. I accepted becoming military. What was done to make me military ... it can't be undone.

"Maybe I just fought to become what I really was inside," she kissed him again and ran her hands down his Lydrom body. "But I can never go back. Never _not_ be military."

"It's a lot like that," he agreed, kissing her back. "Whatever it is, it makes _leaving_ like trying to cut out a part of your own brain. No matter how much you want to, you just can't do it."

She considered him between kisses as they aroused each other, taking more time than they usually bothered with.

"What happens when this war is over, when the Autobots are all gone?" she asked him softly. "What will you do then?"

"Repair Cybertron, move on to the next world - likely pay the Quint's back for double-crossing Megatron and trying to take over again. Quintessa deserves a good pounding."

"Please think about this," she focused his mind. "Logic and emotion. The strong lead. You live for battle. You will find a war to fight. Am I right so far?"

"And right now, Megatron leads," he explained. "You're right, up to the point where we can just choose to abandon the Decepticons."

"But if I take command of the Decepticons?" she looked at him seriously as a dozen plans ran in the background. "Remove Megatron and Starscream at least, those who are fixated on Cybertron as the goal. I give you a different war to fight," her fingers caressed his jaw to make sure he was looking right at her. "Does anything there not work?"

"It works fine... but there's that big step in the middle," he pointed out, kissing her gently, wrapping his arms around her. "Megatron could've killed you last time. He's not going to let you get that close again, if he can help it."

"Then when it's time, I'll just have to make sure he can't help it," she slid her hands down his back and claimed a much more aggressive kiss. "But enough talk of the future," she rumbled as her hand slid forward to stroke his short tail, easing it out of the way of what she wanted at. "We have now, and no enemies to see us."

* * *

Ezara poked her head into the common room and caught Jazz's optics. "Just letting you know I'm back," she called to him.

"Come in, it's movie night," he grinned at her. "Caurun even fixed up some of that low-potency Ssiii'Poemat for you."

"You have no idea how wrong that sounds," she couldn't help but laugh despite her mood. "Low-potency Death's Delay. All right," she decided, only slightly reluctant. It wasn't as if anything she was brooding over would matter for a few joor either way. She was a full metacycle from implementing the first stages if it went well.

She walked in and found a spot on one of the relatively crowded couches, and soon found Jazz sitting next to her. He rested one arm across her the top of her shoulders with the hand dangling loosely. It was an odd sensation, but she could feel the affection intended by it and accepted it as such.

"This one's called _Raiders of the Lost Ark_. It's about the adventures of a famous explorer," he explained. "Fiction."

"It's not this Ark, is it?" Ezara accepted the mug of glittering black energon and settled in, content to being close to a lover and shoved her planning into the back of her processors for a few joor while she enjoyed the down time.

"No," Jazz chuckled and shook his head. "It's a fictional Ark from on'a their origin stories. How'd your flight go?"

"Good," she almost purred, and he caught the faintest flicker that she hadn't been alone for much of it. "Very informative, very satisfying."

He leaned over a bit more and asked silently. "Skywarp?"

"Who else?" she sort of chuckled though the contact. "He's not dangerous to me Jazz, and I got some valuable intel. He just wanted to know I was okay, and it kinda went from there when I tried to recruit him again."

"Was I disapproving?" he pointed out with a light chuckle of his own. "Fill me in on it later?"

"Guess I expected you to be," she said silently, and a little embarrassed. "I will. Optimus'll want to hear most it too. Movie," she focused their attention on the screen and tried not to pay too much attention to the way others were looking at her and Jazz. She had an inkling that a pairbond was the norm for them, and not the way she had three serious lovers and openly flirted with and pleasured any of them when the situation and inclination presented itself.

They settled in to watch the movie, and Jazz was a little surprised when she actually focused on _it_ instead of trying to fool around with him while they were close. Of course, the look he saw in her eyes near the end of it explained all of that pretty easily.

"Y'a got that Prowl look," he chuckled. "Y'a got a list that's about a half-mile long on every tactical and physics mistake they made, don't you?"

"At least," she glanced at him, and he saw it dawn on her. "It's just a story, not meant to be realistic."

"That's why I told you it was fiction," he nodded. "They don't usually do realistic ones - not this decade, at least. They were more historical a while back, I guess, but that went out a long time ago."

"They created all that, just for entertainment?" she cocked her head at him. "A lot of effort into a couple joor distraction."

"Just wait until you hear how much the _big_ stars get paid for these things," he chuckled. "But yeah, that's the basic idea. They put a lot of effort into their entertainment."

"It sounds like the civvies back home, the wealthy ones at least," she commented as it invoked hazy memories of a time very early in her life and of things that were out of reach. She shifted and rolled sideways to kiss him lightly, her hand resting on his upper leg, almost touching the joint to his torso. "Want that debriefing now?"

"It'd be a good idea," he nodded. "We'll need Prime - anybody else good to have along?" he asked her as he sent a message for Optimus.

"Probably Prowl," she said thoughtfully. "Anyone here a history buff or keen on Decepticon psychology?"

"They _have_ such a thing?" Ironhide quipped, though _everybody_ was clearly very interested now.

"Real Decepticons do, though I don't think it applies to everyone to bears their insignia," Ezara glanced at him. "None of it's tactical," she told Jazz. "Just stuff Prime wanted to know.

"And I didn't take any risks getting it," she turned to look at Optimus Prime over the back of the couch when he walked in with Prowl. Wheeljack and Perceptor weren't far behind them.

"Good. How _did_ you come by it?" he asked her as he found a place to sit in the crowded room he was rarely in for long.

"When I was out testing my wings, Skywarp dropped by to see if I'd recovered from the damage Megatron did," she explained without any trace that might be an issue. "He tried to recruit me, I tried to recruit him. Neither worked, but I did get him to explain why he doesn't believe he can leave the Decepticons. From what he said, it'll apply to Thundercracker too, and probably a few others."

"Why Thundercracker?" Prowl almost scowled at her before silencing the impending questions from others about her liaison with a Decepticon with a look.

"He requires regular convincing by the others that he wants to be a Decepticon," she said simply. "Nobody talks about it, but I came very close to getting a complete inventory of his processors and memory while I was with them. He's not dedicated to the cause, no matter what you define that cause as. He just doesn't have anywhere else to go, in his opinion, and he needs to belong more than he needs anything else."

"Whoa," Jazz stared at her. "Nothin' I've _ever_ see cross my desk suggested that."

"For damn good reason," she looked at him levelly. "Starscream keeps it under tight wraps that his Seekers aren't loyal Decepticons, or at the very least loyal out of fear. Neither is true. It just doesn't make them any more likely to defect."

"Does Megatron know?" Optimus Prime asked over the wave of shock that passed through the Autobots.

"Given how _I_ found out, I'm sure he does," Ezara flicked her chin up. "He also doesn't care. As long as what Skywarp told me is true, it won't matter. You are right about the Forge. It didn't just change their bodies and give them the instincts to go with it. It changed _them_ on a fundamental level, but only if it starts with the right material."

"You're talking about _people_ like they're objects," Ratchet glared at her.

"To the Forge, they are," Ezara shrugged. "Raw material to shape and perfect. The better the raw material, the better the final product. In this case, the defining quality for the raw material is a need for battle. Megatron used the arena to find that. What the arena, at least that arena, does not sort for is other valuable qualities; social bonds, intelligence, loyalty, a willingness to die for your beliefs. The qualities that make a unit strong, beyond the ability to fight.

"That the Decepticons don't have those qualities in general is Megatron's failing as a leader. That the Autobots do is to your credit as one," she looked at Optimus Prime.

"Okay, back to how to use this," Prowl interrupted her.

Ezara nodded slightly. "Skywarp described something very similar to what I went through to become what I am. I was a civvie, that's what I was born as. I earned upgrades in the arenas, but when Rawlind officially took me as his successor, they made me military, like they were. I think you worked out just how different the bodies are," she glanced between Optimus Prime, Perceptor and Wheeljack.

"That civvies are mechanical, like we are, and your body is largely nanite," Optimus Prime nodded. "Yes, we know."

"I couldn't tell you if I fought to become on the outside what I always was inside, or if I just adapted to the new form and its rules, but Skywarp recognized it as something similar as what the Forge does. You go in whatever you were before. You come out _different_. With the Forge, you come out a Decepticon. Not just branded and given power, but down to your core. It takes that hunger for battle, for power, and wipes away the rest.

"Or at least it tries to," she said. "They don't believe they can leave the Decepticons in the same way I can't leave the military. It's not about oaths, duty, threats, loyalty or anything so intellectual or emotional. It's about trying to leave something absolutely fundamental to yourself. Sky described it as trying to cut part of your own brain out. No matter how hard you try, you just can't."

"He's ready to leave'm for you though," Jazz stared at her in shock as he put together what she hadn't said and her tone with what she had.

"If he could figure out how," Ezara flicked her chin up. "Said it outright. He just can't wrap his processors around leaving the Decepticons. He doesn't care about defeating you, or Cybertron's fate. He'll fight whatever battles the leader of the Decepticons tells him to and he's content with it. It's his purpose in existence."

"You are not going to challenge Megatron," Optimus Prime said with the kind of steel in his voice the Autobots rarely heard.

"Not before the challenge against Ryzia is over," she promised. "Then I'm going to take a serious look at taking over the Decepticons instead of wiping them out."

"Not that it's a bad plan, but what happens if Megatron _wins_?" Jazz asked her, the rest of the line troops still largely in shock at the information and her plans. "Then he'll have beaten the current Toe'Emirc in battle, just like you'll have beaten Ryzia."

"My troops will kill him," she said simply, like it was nothing of importance, and took a drink of her black energon. "He's not capable of inheriting. It does take more than winning to become Toe'Emirc. You have to be _chosen_, like your Prime."

"I just hope everything works out as planned," Prowl granted. "If we don't have to deal with them anymore, more power to you."

"One way or another, you won't have to," Ezara reminded him. "After the challenge for Toe'Emirc, they become Lydrom's business. They're as prepared to survive us as you'd be."

"If you can defeat Megatron and take them over, that would be the best situation for us," Prime said, trying to keep her focus off massive slaughter. "But all of this has to wait until after your people have arrived. Do you think that there's any way we can break the programming?"

"Mitrix and Singer both think it's worth a try," she said, more than a bit guarded. "Well, actually they know they can. They just aren't sure what else it will take out, or the odds of survival. The changes could, probably will, be at least as dramatic as what happened to Starscream, just in the other direction. Or it could wipe them completely clean, like they'd just been put in their bodies.

"From what Skywarp said, it won't make them any more sociable. Those who went through the Forge were already those who hungered for battle. They weren't peaceful citizens to start with," she warned them.

"They weren't willing to destroy for destruction's sake either," Prime pointed out. "It's worth an effort - if we can break it, then we can start to break Megatron's hold over them. Splitting them up could be just as effective, after all."

Ezara thought about that, and regarded Prime evenly. "Are you willing to sanction an arena, one where death matches exist? They'll need _something_ to do, that's socially acceptable."

"The arenas were illegal when they started," Prowl pointed out gruffly. "There's something _wrong_ with them, not something that needs to be nurtured." He only realized what his words could be taken as by Ezara when he caught the look on Jazz's face and how ready the saboteur was to grab her.

"Enough, Prowl," Optimus Prime said firmly, grateful that Ezara seemed willing to let what he knew to be a serious insult slide. "There are other outlets for destructive urges - something _will_ have to be done, but we'll have to consider options first."

"There is time," Ezara agreed, her expression only slightly irritated. "At least a metacycles before the challenge, and I expect another while my forces gather, sort out those Decepticons that have been through the Forge from those who haven't, see how much they can be changed and how attached individuals are to Cybertron. I'll have a war for them to fight in the meantime, and officers to keep them in line. Most should be happy enough with that for a while at least."

"We can hope," Optimus nodded. "Maybe we should discuss some of this privately?" He said, hoping to get Prowl and some of the others out of there long enough for him to apologize, at least.

"Of course," she flicked her chin up and stood, Jazz with her. "Your office?"

"That would be fine," Optimus nodded, leading the way. As soon as the door closed behind Jazz, Optimus turned to face her.

"I'd like to apologize for what Prowl said. He didn't mean it as a slight towards you _or_ the military mechs. His entire life has been built around enforcing law and order - the rebellion was a strike at what he'd spent his entire life fighting to support."

"I know," she nodded, but it wasn't hard to see that she was still angry, and only getting angrier as she processed everything she'd learned in Prowl's short statement. "The arenas on Lydrom are legal. Every district has one. I didn't know until he said it that they weren't on Cybertron."

"I doubt he realized that they were legal for you," Jazz added as he put a hand on her shoulder. "Or that you find them a good thing."

"I won't hold it against him," she promised Optimus. "I'm just going to be irritated at him for a while."

"I understand," Optimus nodded. "And for what it's worth, there _were_ places to practice your fighting skills - just not for those sort of stakes. It was the 'to the death' part that was illegal, and that Megatron took advantage of."

"He knew they were murderers under the law," she guessed. "It makes an easy argument that they have nowhere else to go," she sighed. "What are the odds that _any_ Decepticon hasn't killed in the arena?"

"Very slim, but ... well, how that will be handled will be another issue," he admitted. "After all. Their 'victims' were trying to kill them as well. They decided to try and kill each other - it's part murder, part self-defense, all very, very complicated from a legal perspective."

"Do you have the authority to pardon them?" Ezara asked, working on her approach and her options.

"I do," he nodded. "It's likely to be an issue in _any_ reconciliation to end the war, and almost certainly going to upset a great many on Cybertron no matter how it's handled. Too lenient, too harsh - there's bound to be a large number who aren't happy."

"I'm sure," she leaned back against the wall, her face down and thoughts going a trillion calculations a nanoklik. "It is something we should discuss, and settle to some extent before I challenge Megatron. It would be a disaster if I took over the Decepticons only to find out we could not come to an acceptable resolution on their status." She looked up, fixing Optimus Prime in her gaze. "I will do my best as their leader to protect them."

"I understand," he nodded. "Frankly, as long as I could be assured that they were not an ongoing threat, I would be inclined to issue pardons, except in a handful of extreme cases. Megatron being the most obvious one - there is simply no way to end his threat, and his role in this war cannot be forgiven without a major change. Kaon is likely to be another, but even then exile to one of the moons is more likely."

"Megatron and Starscream won't survive to see me take over," she said simply. "Neither could accept it, and unlike Megatron, I do not tolerate power-hungry schemers. Kaon ... anything with that much power is too dangerous to leave unsupervised," she agreed. "If he accepts my leadership, exile from Cybertron is acceptable to me. Same with the other city-bots who rebelled. After I meet them it will come down to your answer of being secured on a moon, or if they come with me to an unoccupied world where they can not harm you."

"Then I believe we'll be able to come to a mutual agreement, when the time comes," he nodded. "If I may ask - besides his attack on you that brought you to us, what did Starscream do to earn this vendetta?"

"Trying to assassinate his commander is quite enough," she said darkly. "Megatron made me Air Commander before this happened. Failing to kill may be acceptable to him, but it's not to me. Since he proved he won't stop until I'm dead, he's earned the same."

"It seemed like there was something deeper involved," he conceded. "I understand how that would be an issue though; none of us have been in a position where he really betrayed us, rather than merely fighting us."

"Deeper ... yes," she admitted almost grudgingly. "We have far too much in common, too much...." Ezara struggled for words before she finally growled, her gaze down. "Have you ever known someone you saw yourself in the moment you met? A mirror to a different life. I knew before I knew his name we'd either be inseparable, or unable to tolerate each other. I wanted the first. Honor got in the way. He has none to speak of."

"Still hurts though," Jazz stepped around to tip her chin up.

"Rawlind swears it'll mellow with experience," she met his optics briefly. "Yeah. Not many things to do with that kind of fire, ya'know? Delta Six knew an old saying. An inferno always destroys. Control makes that destruction the beginning of something more; lack of it ends everything it touches. Starscream has no control, and I don't have that much more on my own."

"I hate to ask you this," Prime interrupted. "But it relates to what you said. The next time you see Skywarp, I'd like you to try and get an imprint of his brainwaves. If you could bring him in, it would be better, but I understand that he's unlikely to come willingly."

"An imprint I can do," she flicked her chin to the right, quietly grateful for something to think about other than Starscream and how infuriating he was. "I'll see if I can talk him into coming in. What do you want to do?"

"At this stage? Basic analysis of the programming changes," Optimus explained. "I'll turn them over to Wheeljack and Perceptor, and see what the two of them can determine. There may be a way to simply break their loyalty to the 'cause' - if we can accomplish that, without harming them, it would cripple Megatron in an orn."

Ezara cocked her head, uncertain if she agreed, before it registered that he was talking about the conviction that all they could ever be was Decepticons.

"We'd still have a mess on our hands, but there would be no one leading the mess," she chuckled lightly. "I'll do my best. Who knows, if Wheeljack and Ratchet are willing to work somewhere more neutral appearing, I might be able to talk him into coming, at least briefly."

"I'm sure they'd be willing, if you can arrange it," he nodded. "They were thinking hardest about this of anybody out there."

"Why don't we go drivin'?" Jazz suggested. "Burn off that bad mood."

"I like that idea," her body language softened. "If we're done?" she looked at Optimus.

"We're done," he nodded. "Just don't go looking for a fight, either of you," he added, keeping his tone relatively light, for all he was serious.

"No problem, Boss-bot," Jazz grinned with his promise.

"Agreed," Ezara flicked her chin right before she followed Jazz out. "We'll behave."


	10. Run to Cybertron

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Optimus Prime/Elita-1, Optimus Prime/Ezara, Powerglide/Moonracer  
_Rating_: PG-13  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary_: When Ezara takes Caurun's ship to Cybertron with a stockpile of energon and orders to bring back a few warriors, she ends up in the middle of a much larger event.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home 23: Run to Cybertron**

* * *

"So much like Lydrom," Ezara murmured as she came into clear view of Cybertron. "If you turned the lights off and shrunk it," she sighed, shaking her head to clear the grief from her thoughts. She was on a joyous mission. She was bringing desperately needed supplies and about to reunite loved ones.

"Alien vessel - declare yourself and your destination," a trio of pyramid-shaped fighters demanded as they came onto her sensors.

"Name's Ezara," she told them as she prepped for evasive maneuvers, and calculating the odds she could simply run them over. "Destination is wherever this rock lands."

A few moments passed before the next transmission.

"Brace for retrieval; orders have been given to bring you to base."

"Sorry, that's not happening while Starscream's alive," Ezara told them and powered the engines up, aiming to ram the triad to buy herself enough time to get to the landing zone.

They scattered, quickly turning to follow her, though she managed to win some more time with the stunt.

"Air Commander Starscream is not involved," he told her, firing a few warning shots across her bow. "Further attempts to resist will result in termination."

"Younglings, you have _no_ idea what you just challenged," she chuckled to herself and set the autopilot to take the ship, and its precious cargo, to the landing zone before she opened the door and leapt into a free-fall to transform in.

It only took her a few shots to scatter them - typical Decepticons. She was seeing more and more how undisciplined they were, and it made it easier to see why it had taken so long to come even this close to wiping out the Autobots. Harder to see why they'd been so successful, but she had a fairly good idea of that as well.

A blast from the surface reminded her that flying security wasn't all they had; a large laser cannon on the surface was firing on her, but would be easier to evade than to take out right now so she powered her engines to full and landed at nearly the same time as Caurun's ship.

"Ultra Magnus?" she called out, scanning for where they were hiding until they were sure it was safe before greeting her. "I did not have an unseen approach. We need to move."

"That was expected," he replied as he came out of hiding. He was at least as tall as Prime, blue and white, clearly another 'big rig' in design. "Our base is clear, and we're ready to start unloading. We'll be clear in a few nanokliks," he reassured her as others came out; a young mech painted with flames, a smaller one who'd clearly seen his share of battle, and a blue bot about as large as Bumblebee who literally left a streak behind him as he rushed towards the ship to start unloading.

"Absolutelypositively!" the blue streak rambled, moving energon cubes out at an unbelievable rate once the door was open into a series of small trucks and transports. "We'llhavetheshipclearinnotime, won'tmissasingledrop!"

"Meet Blurr," Ultra Magnus said with a low chuckle. "The other two are Hot Rod and Kup," he nodded towards the pair standing guard over the convoy.

"Appropriately named," Ezara mused as she watched Blurr dart about, her sensors alert for trouble. "How is Blaster?"

"He was picked up in a raid last night," Ultra Magnus said quietly. "Hot Rod wants to go in after him, but we couldn't risk the pickup for it."

"In a few nanokliks the pickup will be over," she said easily. "Then we go after him."

"It's about time," Hot Rod muttered as he rearranged Blurr's latest load. "Who knows what they've done to him already."

"He's a good mech, Hot Rod," Kup reassured him. "We've got time, and he'll understand."

"If he's anything like Jazz remembers, he'd kick your tailpipe out of the system if you sacrificed this pickup to get him earlier," Ezara added. "This load is needed badly."

"Are you willing to take the rescue operation?" Ultra Magnus asked her silently, making light contact to send the message and remembered belatedly what Optimus Prime had said about touching her when he felt her mental shields snap down harder than a Decepticon's would have, though she left enough of herself outside them to communicate. "I can fill you in on who'd be going with you before you leave. We can't risk everybody we have to save one bot ... I think you understand, even if Hot Rod doesn't. He's entirely too young for this."

"I understand," she flicked her chin up, the rest of her communication silent. "Do you have schematics of where Blaster's being held?"

"Old ones; we can't guarantee they haven't changed anything. Kup's been in there too - I'd take him and Hot Rod, if I were running the mission. Mostly because you'll have Hot Rod with you one way or the other. A smaller group will have the best chance of getting in, finding Blaster, and getting out without losing anybody. A smaller anomaly for Shockwave to detect."

"Agreed," she said, taking his counsel for it's full worth. "I'd like Blurr too, if you believe he can keep his mouth shut and you can spare him. That kind of speed can be worth a lot in uncertain territory."

"I could spare him, but keeping his mouth shut isn't likely to happen," Ultra Magnus chuckled mentally. "At least not if you give him _anything_ to respond to verbally. If you don't ask him questions, he should be all right. You've met Bumblebee?"

"Yes, I have," she considered the blur of an Autobot as they finished unloading the energon cubes, judging his value against the risk. "I'll stay with Hot Rod and Kup. What are their strengths and weaknesses?"

"They're both brave and dedicated. Hot Rod's impulsive and a little hot-headed - there's good and bad in that. He takes too many chances, and tends to act before he thinks, but he usually gets away with it, and he's not about to back down from a challenge. Kup is one of the most experienced vet's on Cybertron. He's starting to show his age a little bit, but he knows what he's doing, and doesn't take the same chances that Hot Rod does. I'm _hoping_ he'll rub off on Hot Rod some if I keep them working together. Just be ready to tell him to get to the point if he gets off on a war story - he usually keeps on topic, but once in a while his mind will wander. That long on the battlefield, he's lost a certain sense of urgency about it."

"I know how to work with both," she flicked her chin up slightly as the loading was finished.

"All right, Transform and roll out!" Ultra Magnus ordered those who were still in their base mode.

"Why are we going back to base?" Hot Rod demanded when he realized that Ezara was joining the convoy.

"Because the map is there and I _plan_ my missions," she told him firmly. "We do Blaster no good being killed or captured ourselves."

"We need to recharge too, now that we've got enough power for it," Kup pointed out. "It won't take us that much longer."

"You two recharge while I plan with Ultra Magnus then," Ezara agreed without issue.

They found their way into a warren of tunnels beneath Cybertron's surface, heading down after Hoist was loaded with Ezara's ship, making their way to a node in the tunnels that was set up with all the equipment their base would need.

"We can plan in here," Ultra Magnus told her, heading off to a side room after transforming to his base mode.

She followed suit, taking in the base and his troops as they walked. "How long will that energon last you?" she asked quietly.

"It depends on how much we end up using, and how much we can draw out of the power systems without getting caught," Ultra Magnus explained. "We'll probably be able to arrange a few raids from this, which might stretch it out - we can't really predict it. Shockwave might cut a sector off to try and starve our supporters out - the relief mission will drain it fast if he does."

"Will a run a decaorn likely be enough, or is more often warranted?" she rephrased her question. "We have a near-endless supply on Earth, and it will be endless when the satellite goes into orbit. Just realize I brought the large ship. No run will carry much."

"We'll communicate with Prime about our needs, but right now the main battle is on Earth," Magnus pointed out. "It needs to be fought there, as long as that's where Megatron is."

"All right," she flicked her chin up. "Let's take a look at the plans you have."

* * *

Blaster looked up defiantly at Coldspike and Hotspike. Energon and lubricant leaked from dozens of injuries that hadn't been frozen or cauterized by the pair while Shockwave watched impassively and asked questions. All Blaster could do was grit his teeth and bear it, and occasionally let some relatively minor piece of information slip out so they wouldn't give up on him and go to work on his team.

As hard as this was on him, he knew his Cassettes wouldn't last against it, especially not Rewind and Steeljaw. He knew they wouldn't break, but he couldn't let them die.

"You are withholding," Shockwave said dispassionately.

"If you asked for something reasonable, I wouldn't," Blaster countered, grunting when Hotspike hit him in the jaw hard enough to crack the casing.

"Let us work his insides," Coldspike requested politely, the pair too familiar with Shockwave to not ask the right way. "Soften him up for questioning."

"Six joor failed," Shockwave reminded them.

"Six more won't," Hotspike promised.

"It had better not," Shockwave told them just before a small beeping focused his attention elsewhere. "Your friends have finally decided to join you," he informed Blaster.

"Sounds like you won't have the time, Boys," Blaster quipped weakly as Shockwave left. "Won't be stickin' around here long!"

"We can make sure you don't leave either," Hotspike grinned evilly at him.

"At least as nothing more than a shell," Coldspike added, noting they were alone.

"Better work fast then," Blaster grimaced, bracing himself for the two sadists to start on him again, this time with no intention of having him survive their games.

* * *

"I wish we could hear him," Hot Rod muttered, monitoring his sensors for any message from Blaster.

"He knows better than to distract us," Kup pointed out, grunting as he finished hiding the guard he'd killed on the way in. "Any alarms yet?"

"No," Ezara whispered, every bit of her being at high alert. "It won't be long though. We're too close."

They made it through another door before the alarms did start, red lights flashing and klaxons blaring.

"Blast it!" Kup growled lowly, raising his blaster. "Move, everybody! Get as far as we can before we fight!"

The group transformed and hit the gas. With Ezara in the lead they raced through corridors, dodging and bolting past more Decepticons than they actually fought.

"Autobots!" a female voice called out to them as they entered the prison block. "Get me out of here."

"What in Primus' name is _she_ doing here?" Kup asked, veering off from the path. "I'll catch up! We're getting a little bonus with this rescue!"

"_What_ was that?" Hot Rod asked as he followed Ezara deeper into the prison block.

"Autobot femme," she supplied. "Moonracer I believe, from her voice. Powerglide's lover."

"He never said anything about her to me - how do you know about her?" he asked

"She was thought dead four ganon ago, along with Elita-1 and the rest of her team, in the attack on the Ark's launch," Ezara explained. "I know her from Prime's memories."

"You two are kinda close, huh?" He asked her knowingly.

"Enough I do not welcome news of Elita-1's survival, if she has," she told him. "Blaster's up ahead," she said at an agony-filled scream. "He's dying," she added after analyzing the sound.

"Not..." Hot Rod's denial was cut off by the rumble of Ezara's engines as she transformed into jet mode and blasted down the corridor. Despite his formidable speed, he was still just a car. By the time he caught up he'd had to listen to the battle begin and finish. Privately, he couldn't help but be impressed that she'd taken a pair of Decepticons out that fast.

He skidded to a stop on his feet just outside the cell, blaster in hand as he looked around for _something_ to do.

"Free the Cassettes," Ezara ordered as she worked on Blaster, patching the worst of his injuries. "And try not to kill those two if they come around. I have use for them. No, you don't want to know what."

"Umm, right," Hot Rod stared at her for a moment, then looked towards the way they came at the sound of two engines as he hurried to Rewind's cell to free the small bot. He let out a small sound of relief when he could see it was just Kup and another Autobot, a sleek Cybertronian car in pale green and white, presumably Moonracer.

"How is he?" Kup asked as he transformed just outside Blaster's cell while Moonracer helped Hot Rod free the others.

"He'll be able to transform soon," Ezara told him without looking up. "If you'd secure those two, I'd appreciate it. I'd prefer they stay alive for the time being. She the only one?"

"Yeah," Kup nodded. "Said the others survived though."

"She say why they didn't rejoin the resistance?" Ezara asked evenly.

"Not yet," he said quietly as he knelt to secure their prisoners, sure of where her thoughts had gone about Moonracer and the others. "Know who you've got?"

"Black's Hotspike. White's Coldspike. Serial killers turned Decepticon interrogators," she gave a summary. "The only important part is that they've been through the Forge."

"That's the important part?" Kup eyed her as she assisted Blaster in transforming. "Company coming," he warned her at the sound of guards running in the cell block.

"For what I need them for, yes," she said and handed Blaster to him. In the center of the corridor she transformed into an aerial form much larger than her fighter mode with two opened the sides. "Everybody in. We're taking the fast way out."

Kup loaded Blaster on, then helped Hot Rod get the two prisoners on board while Moonracer made sure Steeljaw, Ramhorn, Eject and Rewind got on board. They all watched as she closed the hatches behind them in a sort of organic action, growing closed.

"How many forms do you _have_?" Hot Rod asked as her powerful engines rumbled and she put enough power into her weapons to blast their way out.

"Theoretically infinite," Ezara told them as they hit open air. "I have four that I consider mine. Anything else, like this one, are based on need and improvisation."

"The most we've ever seen before is three," Kup explained, bracing himself. "Hot Rod, get over here and help me with Blaster - he's stable, but we've got a chance to do better, until we can get him to a repair bay."

"I know," Ezara said. "I'm not Cybertronian. The rules don't apply quite as much."

"What are you then?" Moonracer asked as she checked over the Cassettes for damage while the guys worked on Blaster.

"Homeworld: Lydrom. Race: Tezita. Type: Military. Rank: Toe'Emirc. The equivalent of your Prime," she answered.

"So somebody finally managed to find allies for us," she said, sounding relieved. "Did Optimus come back with you?"

"There was no expected need for it," Ezara said. "This was supposed to be a simple supply drop off. Blaster's capture changed it slightly. Why did you not rejoin the main resistance after the Ark launched?"

"The Decepticons thought we were dead too - it gave us a chance to operate without Shockwave knowing he was supposed to be looking for us," Moonracer explained. "It hasn't been easy," she admitted softly.

"Have you thought of how to explain to Powerglide?" Ezara asked as she dodged heavy laser fire from the ground and airborne Decepticons from above. "Kup, best way to get back to base without showing them?"

"Promise not to tell Elita-1, but he knows," Moonracer admitted. "It wasn't like I saw him on purpose the first time, but I made him promise not to say anything."

"Can you go into space in this thing?" Kup asked her as he soldered some of Blaster's cables back into place, Rewind and his cassettes watching their prisoners for any sign of activity. "Best way to lose 'em would be like those Betelgeusian Skydrakes."

"_Details_, Kup," Hot Rod pointed out. "The people here who _might_ know what that means aren't the pilots!"

"Get behind the shadow of the second moon and ambush them when they go by - wait for orbit to take us around before we come back in, get through their sensors, and head for the base after we reach ground level," Kup detailed.

"Yes and headed up," Ezara said as she tipped her nose up and powered up to break from Cybertron's minimal gravity. She darted around the nearest moon and hovered there, just above the surface. With her weapons at full-power, she waited for her prey and opened fire without moving when the second one's nose became visible.

Two volleys left their pursuers smoking and punched with holes, turning to limp back to Cybertron to escape the demon they'd followed. Ezara wanted to follow them, badly. Her interior hummed with the dissidence of choosing to protect her charges over finishing the battle. Even with that, she remained still, carefully hidden by the moon on its all-too-long trip to the far side of Cybertron.

"How many warriors came with you?" Moonracer asked in the uncomfortable near-silence of the wait.

"None," Ezara said simply. "I landed on Earth alone."

"I thought you said you were your world's equivalent of Prime," Moonracer frowned. "In the same spot we are?"

"In a way," Ezara hedged. "My forces are coming. They're just a few metacycles behind me."

"That's not so bad," Moonracer granted. "Hope they get here soon, we could use the help. I'm getting sick of having to fight the good fight, especially the way we're doing it. Hoping you can bargain with Megatron for the two slagheaps back here?" She asked, changing the topic.

"No," Ezara said evenly. "Wheeljack has a theory that it is possible to undo the programming changes the Forge created. If he can do it, it could break the Decepticons as a force in matter of decacycles, or at the very least break Megatron's power base."

"Hopefully the first two test subjects won't come out of it intact," Kup muttered. "If there's anybody who deserves not to live through this war, it's these two."

"I hope they do," Ezara told him with a dark edge to her chuckle. "It'll prove the theory, and it means I get to use them for a second experiment that most definitely is lethal."

"I'd ask, but then I could tell somebody," Kup chuckled darkly, already approving of her a little more. "Of course, Prime will want to run them through a trial first, but that shouldn't take long. Everybody knows what these two have done, at least back on Cybertron."

"They are definitely the two sickest minds I've touched," Ezara agreed. "I'm not partial to the death penalty, but every so often someone really deserves it."

"They're on the list - I don't know if there's any way to reprogram them enough," Moonracer muttered. "Absolutely sick. Only person who thinks they have any redeeming features is Shockwave - and that's only because they're useful to him."

"Them, no," Ezara said with confidence. "But there are Decepticons that might pass for good soldiers if the Forge-effects are knocked out of them. I just prefer the idea of early experiments happening on those who will die anyway, rather than those it's meant to help."

"Given what the experiment's for, I'll agree with you," Kup nodded. "Normally, that's a little too Decepticon for me, but we're talking about something that _shouldn't_ kill them."

"Not the ones with any shred of sanity left in them at least," Ezara confirmed. "Wheeljack's not partial to genocide, after all, and neither am I."

"How many warriors'll be coming?" Hot Rod asked, unsettled by the direction the conversation was going.

"If it's what I'm expecting, twelve hundred," Ezara told him, aware of the shock that rippled through the younger bots on board.

"More than we've seen in a battle in over five ganon," Kup observed. "On both sides. Prime found himself some good allies."

"Wait, you're committing _twelve hundred_ to defeating the Decepticons," Hot Rod tried to wrap his processors around the number. "What about your world?"

"The bulk of my forces are still home," Ezara told him. "I only committed a small expeditionary force in my deal with Optimus."

"Just how big _is_ your army?" Moonracer asked.

"Approximately ten billion," Ezara answered easily. "A third of Lydrom's population is military, on average."

"A third..." Kup murmured. "How does Lydrom support over _thirty billion_ bots?"

"By being much larger than Cybertron, to start with," Ezara answered. "It was larger close to Cybertron's size before we rebuilt it. Now it's three time's Cybertron's diameter with useable levels going down to the core. We're still building out, as we need space."

"What sort of enemies do you _have_, that you need ten _billion_ soldiers?" Moonracer asked, picking what she thought was the harder question to answer. "And how do you _power_ a military like that?"

"The military supports itself," Ezara explained. "We build our own power plants, maintain them, and share the extra with the civilians. We have no enemies, not in the sense you are asking about. Lydrom's history and ways are very different from Cybertron's."

"So why do you need a third of your people as soldiers if they don't have anybody to _fight_?" she asked with a frown, trying to wrap her processors around it.

"It's not based on need," Ezara attempted to explain. "Tezita are born what we are, military or civvie. Most will be what their parents are, those who gave some of their Spark and body to make you. We do not draw our Spark from our world like you do. We reproduce much as our biological creators did."

"Seems more complicated than it has to be, but I suppose it works for you," Moonracer granted. "Still not sure what you do with your military."

"We fight, build, maintain our world, invent the technology of the future," Ezara explained. "Most of the things Cybertron has civilians do."

"What do civilians do, then?" Hot Rod asked.

"Police themselves, build some of what they need, make a living however they can, have younglings that do the same," Ezara said, her tone less certain. "It's not a life I'd wish on anything."

"Because you like to fight?" Kup asked, trying to get a better feel for the situation. It reminded him of more than a few cultures he'd encountered, some good, some bad, some terrifyingly insane.

"Civvies who like to fight make a living in the arenas. They usually do fairly well," she told him. "For the rest, it's because they rarely know if they'll make enough in the decacycle to full recharge and repairs. As often as not they have to rely on government handouts to make it. They rarely have a real recourse if another civvie hurts them. Sure, they have punishments for crimes, but the system is badly broken."

"You're talking about them like they're a completely different planet," Hot Rod scowled.

"They might as well be. We are different subspecies," Ezara verbally shrugged. "Both sides tend to keep our distance, unless they need handouts."

Kup made a subtle motion to shut both Moonracer and Hot Rod up. This wasn't a conversation to have here and now. As a distraction, he began to tell stories, any strange and wild ones he could think of.

* * *

"Take Blaster and my prisoners back to base," Ezara ordered evenly as she transformed once everyone was outside and on the ground. "Take a indirect route," she added silently to Kup with the faintest of touches.

Hot Rod looked between the two femmes and Kup, aware something was going sideways but not what.

"Just go," Ezara ordered with a bit more steel, causing both fit mechs to transform and roll out. Kup was in the lead, angling away from their destination and Hot Rod mercifully silent about it while the femmes were in audio range.

"You don't trust me," Moonracer turned to face the alien femme as tall as Prime and tried to keep the accusation out of her voice.

"Damn right I don't," Ezara told her as she leaned back against a wall. "Of the handful of scenarios I can think of to explain your survival and absence for so long, the one you gave is well down the probability list. It's up to Ultra Magnus whether you are taken to the base."

"And if it was up to you?" Moonracer tried to keep the demand, and anger, out of her voice.

"A very thorough look into your memory to see what you've been up to," Ezara shrugged. "Then I'd decide whether I trust you, or to drop your shredded remains on the Decepticon control tower."

"Well you wouldn't find much, not beyond what I've told you! I've told you what happened. We've been fighting for _four_ ganon for the Autobots. Just tell me you didn't give Ultra Magnus some sort of excuse _besides_ the fact that you don't want to believe me," she demanded irritably.

"I didn't even tell him that much," Ezara told her evenly. "Just that we found you and you said the others were alive too. _He_ suggested meeting you out here. I agree with his tactical assessment."

"That's fine then," Moonracer agreed grudgingly, fully aware of Ultra Magnus' reputation as a leader. "You wish you hadn't heard me, don't you?"

"I prefer now, than in five to eight metacycles when we would have found out otherwise," Ezara said, her sensors seeking any sign of approaching mechs. "It's less complicated now," she added as she picked up Ultra Magnus' engine approach.

"Just how 'complicated' is it?" Moonracer asked her, a sick feeling in her processors.

"We're lovers," Ezara answered evenly as Ultra Magnus transformed near them.

"You and Prime...." he tried not to stammer in shock as he stared at Ezara.

"Are lovers, yes," she flicked her chin to the right. "It is not _that_ big a deal yet," she put his attention back on the subject.

"Yeah, that will _definitely_ complicate things," Moonracer agreed, her insides tightening at the thought of breaking this news to Elita-1. On a level, she couldn't blame Prime for moving on after so long, but it didn't stop _her_ from feeling betrayed for her leader. She turned as Ultra Magnus came up behind her. "So, what's the plan before you'll let us know where we can find a safe place to meet, since we've been found out now?"

"Just open yourself to me," he said firmly, reaching up to touch her forehead.

"I'll guard," Ezara promised, her attention turning fully outward while the two Transformers dealt with each other on the cyber plane. It all went faster than she anticipated, with Ultra Magnus apparently satisfied in barely a few moments.

"If I may suggest something?" Ezara looked to Ultra Magnus for permission out of respect for his status on Cybertron. "A place only the real Elita-1 would understand."

Ultra Magnus nodded.

"The Shadow," Ezara flicked her chin up. "She knows what it means."

"So how do you, if it's not common knowledge?" Moonracer demanded, even as she realized the likely answer and cursed herself for asking.

"Optimus showed me," she answered simply.

"I'll tell her - though don't expect her to come alone," Moonracer added, transforming and taking off, heading down into the tunnels to look for _her_ leader's base.

"We do not," Ultra Magnus assured her. "Neither will I.

"I have a feeling that Powerglide knew about this," Ultra Magnus observed when Moonracer was out of sight. "I'll have to talk to him about it. So - want a ride back to base?" He offered her, turning and transforming into his car-carrier form.

"Sure," she agreed easily and transformed to drive up into his trailer. "Don't be too hard on him if he did. I doubt anyone asked him directly."

"No, we didn't," Magnus agreed. "All the same, it concerns me. How long have you and Prime been together?" He asked her as they traveled into the tunnels.

"Less than a two decaorn," she told him. "It's not very serious yet."

"That's good. Will this change things, for you?" He asked her, privately worried about the alliance that didn't seem much older than the affair.

"If Elita-1, his Elita-1 is still alive, how could it _not_?" she almost laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. "It won't change the big picture or the alliance. Thing'll just be awkward for a while. Probably more for him than me. He's still completely in love with her. It'll twist him up inside when he realizes he cheated on her, even if no one can blame him for believing she was offline."

"You're frustrated that this is going to keep it from being more serious for the two of you, though. It's not just a fringe benefit of the alliance for you, I imagine."

"No," she admitted quietly. "I made sure he understood the alliance wasn't dependent on his response," she said firmly. "Do you ... no, of course you wouldn't. It's a one in a billion that can stand up to someone like me in a full rage and still be civil minded first," Ezara sighed, her frame settling a little lower in his car rack. "If that many. It's a rare combination of strength and restraint."

"What are you looking for, exactly?" He asked her. "It might be a bit more common around Cybertron than you expect."

"The looking out for civilians I can see being common, but those who can stand up to me when I'm out for Sparks and get me to calm down ... that's the hard part," she chuckled a little wearily. "Optiums can. Jazz, maybe, if he was determined enough, but it's not his _nature_ to be up front like that. He's about blending in, not challenging. Prowl doesn't understand my temperament enough to deal with it, even though he has the fortitude and temperament to do it."

Ultra Magnus held silent, feeling that she hadn't finished even though she'd stopped talking.

"A balance, a counter-point to me ... someone who resonates the right way," she eventually continued, struggling to explain something she understood that she'd simply _know_ when she touched the right person. "Someone I can't pull rank on."

"You'll have a harder time finding somebody capable of stopping you, most likely," he told her. "Physically, or mentally?"

"A little of both, but most mentally," she said. "It's kinda inherent in my position that no one can stop my physically if I'm determined to do something. Getting through the rage, not being afraid of it or of stepping in front of me when I'm furious ... that's important."

"You're likely to find the mental parts more easily than the physical, is why I asked," he explained. "But there are other options available for you."

"I know a few," she said. "What ones are you thinking of?"

"Well, I'd been thinking that Prime wouldn't necessarily have to choose between you and Elita, first off," Magnus chuckled lowly. "I've heard of stranger arrangements."

Ezara chuckled in turn, and it actually had a ring of humor in it along with an edge. "Sharing isn't the issue, at least about me. I'm not so sure _he_ has it in him to share himself like that."

"Maybe not - but he's got the right to be the one who says so, doesn't he?" Magnus pointed out. "Think about backup plans, but don't assume it's going to drop out that quickly."

"Backup plans I have," she promised. "He's not the love of my life, Magnus. Nothing like what he feels for Elita-1. I was just looking forward to a few uncomplicated metacycles with someone who understands _completely_ what I've been through before I went back to my life. It's not every day you meet someone who was rebuilt, had a dozen others stuck in their head and then put in charge of an army and a war that weren't ready to fight in as a foot soldier, much less top officer."

"You thought you were going to get uncomplicated being with Optimus?" He couldn't help but laugh slightly. "It was bound to be complicated one way or another. Just ask Elita-1, if she _does_ turn up."

"Uncomplicated compared to my norm," Ezara chuckled herself. "It's a relative thing."


	11. For the Greater Good

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Optimus Prime/Ezara, Optimus Prime/Elita-1  
_Rating_: PG  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary_: With the Autobot femmes' cover blown, they rejoin the main resistance, and Elita-1 and Ezara have to work out just what they are going to tell Optimus Prime, and how.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home 24: For the Greater Good**

* * *

"You two are _entirely_ too happy about this," Elita-1 looked at Firestar and Moonracer as the group of six femmes waited under a deep overhang meant to simulate a cave.

"We finally get to be with Inferno and Powerglide," Moonracer reminded her. "It's a _good_ day."

"Particularly since we got Moonracer back from Shockwave and the other rust-buckets," Chromia offered. "Besides, you have to know that Optimus isn't going to just forget about you because there's a newer model on the lot. Once he knows you're still alive, she'll be the one on the outs."

"She knows it too," Moonracer added, both as an assurance and a caution.

"You can kick her tailpipe to the moon," Starjumper smirked. "You know it."

"She's some kind of big-time military leader," Moonracer stopped the line of thought. "She's giving twelve hundred soldiers to the cause. Don't piss her off too much."

"Like you did," Silver Shadow smirked at her unit-sister.

"Yeah, like I did," Moonracer rolled her optics.

"Someone's coming," Silver Shadow phased out of visibility and moved a little deeper into the cave. "At least four."

"Powerglide's one," Moonracer said, her engine revving.

"I recognize Inferno," Firestar added.

"Ultra Magnus and the alien are the other two," Elita-1 told them. "Right on time too."

"On time?" Moonracer glanced at her leader.

"The Shadows isn't just a place, it's a time," she explained quietly. "She really does know Optimus that well."

"It'll work out, sister," Chromia put a reassuring hand on Elita-1's shoulder before she walked into the moonlight alone to greet the Autobots.

"Welcome back to the living, Elita-1," Ultra Magnus greeted her, extending a hand that she took. Both leaders crossed into the other, exploring to confirm the likely identity without going too deep.

"Thank you, Ultra Magnus," she smiled up at him as they each retreated. "I believe you have met my team before."

"Yes, but do introduce them," he said. "Not everyone has."

Elita-1 nodded and motioned for her unit to come out.

"Chromia is my second in command," she nodded to the proud and self-confident teal colored femme, who immediately had Ezara's full attention. It wasn't lost on either of them that the alien commander reacted more to her than Elita-1.

"Firestar is search and rescue trained," she introduced the bright red femme who greeted Infero with a warm hug.

"Starjumper is the fast one. Not a Blurr, but fast."

"Silver Shadow is my espionage specialist," she nodded to the matte finish silver femme that silently stepped from the shadows.

"Moonracer you've already met. She's the best sharpshooter in on my team," she nodded to the pale green and white femme as she came out and was promptly swept into an embrace by Powerglide.

"Sniper?" Ezara asked curiously.

"No, a sharpshooter," Moonracer corrected her.

"I believe you two have something to discuss," Ultra Magnus said quietly to Elita-1 with a nod to Ezara. "About, umm...."

"Optimus," she nodded and walked over to the plain silvery femme that looked as alien as she was. Enough like a Cybertronian that Elita-1 could understand her aesthetic appeal, but decidedly alien.

"Let's talk in private," Elita-1 said as she walked up to Ezara, who was still having something of a stare down with Chromia.

She flicked her chin up and walked with Elita-1 deep into the darkness of the artificial cave.

"Alright," Ezara took a deep breath of a pause as she leaned against the wall of the park's cave, giving the pair a small measure of privacy for a delicate conversation as the others were near the entrance. "I'm going to be my blunt self. You've been without Optimus for over four ganon. Please be honest with me," her manner became much more subdued, much more the youth that just didn't want to be hurt any more than she had to be as she looked up and met Elita-1's optics with surprisingly unguarded ones. "Do you still love him?"

"Do you?" Elita-1 asked instead of answering, startling Ezara into being a touch more guarded.

The young Tezita took a moment, honestly analyzing herself to answer a question she didn't expect to be asked. She'd expected Elita-1 to say yes, and then she'd tell both of them that she was going to bow out as gracefully as she could. She'd worked herself up to accept that break, the loss, with the grace that her position demanded and grieve in private if she grieved at all. No matter how much she _wanted_ Optimus Prime, no matter how good she knew he was for her, there was nothing in her that came close to what he felt for Elita-1. In the end, that was the answer.

"Nothing like what he feels for you," Ezara finally said, her gaze down. "And enough that I won't hurt him by getting in the way if you still love him."

"There's something else," Elita-1 prodded, her experience as a leader coming into play. This was hardly the first time she'd deal with a potential or real love triangle, or even the first time she'd been part of one. Whether because he was Prime or because of his caring nature, Optimus attracted this kind of attention from mechs and femmes alike. This was just the first time that he seemed to return it.

Ezara couldn't help the bitter laugh that escaped her vocal processors. "Irony. You've been apart four times longer than I have to live. With different timing, I could have had him my entire life and you'd never notice unless he mentioned the ganon he had a lover while he thought you were dead."

"A ganon?" Elita-1 looked startled.

"Long story," Ezara waved off any intention of explaining it fully. "That's what I have if I somehow manage to die of no longer being able to be repaired. Most Toe'Emirc don't last quite that long."

"Then you aren't really looking to take my place," Elita-1 regarded her competition with an understanding compassion. To live so short a life ... she'd have done anything to go with Optimus if she knew they had that little time to be together. She reached out to touch Ezara's shoulder, uncertain how to take the way she flinched away before allowing the contact.

The moment metal touched metal, Elita-1 understood fully. Ezara was capable of locking her out, but she didn't. It didn't come naturally to her to avoid the link touch could create. Barely three hundred and sixty vorn old and already looking her death from age square on and felt no trepidation towards it. Every metacycle was something Ezara was keenly aware of as it passed, even as she embraced every nanoklik. Yes, she had over ninety-five percent of her lifespan left, but Elita-1 understood in that brief contact just how short Ezara knew it would be even if it lasted in full.

Elita-1 was sure she understood what Optimus saw as well. A warrior with an achingly short lifespan and good Spark. One that had been rebuilt and thrust into command long before she was ready, just as he had been. A leader who knew she needed balance, the counsel and comfort of someone whose first response was peace. Just how much it hurt for Ezara to accept stepping aside, and that it was a sense of honor that made her do so.

More than anything, Elita-1 felt, and understood, that despite the implication of her words and hopes, Ezara had no expectation of being with Optimus her entire life, much less his. She only needed a hand of metacycles, if that long. Just until the first ship coming to join her had arrived with a few of her own kind. Tezita that she trusted, and something tainted with a darkness that would 'fix' things. She was waiting for those she had taken counsel from before her life had gone to the pits and sent her so far from home.

Elita-1 removed her hand slowly, processing the information that she'd downloaded as Ezara watched her.

Like Optimus, Elita-1 knew what she had to do, for the greater good of Cybertron. And really, compared to believing he was dead for four ganon as she continued the fight, this was a small sacrifice. A handful of metacycles she'd barely notice, yet it was a handful of metacycles that could well cement an alliance that would determine the future of the entire galaxy -- or make it weak enough to break in time.

Even if it was Ezara's entire life, it was time that Elita-1 had to give.

"I can share," Elita-1 said softly, surprising Ezara. "I love him, but you need him, and I still have a war to fight here while you are both on Earth. I can tell you have no interest in keeping him all to yourself any more than you are looking for him to be your only love."

"You've always been first in his Spark," Ezara said softly with a hesitant smile. "Even when he thought you were gone. Come to Earth? Your unit can do without you for a decaorn. I think he needs to hear from you, in person."

"I'm needed here," Elita-1 countered, though the suggestion was ever so tempting. Only a decaorn. Her unit really could do without her that long. They'd still be catching up on gossip in a decaorn.

"Elita-1, it would be cruel to tell Optimus you're alive, you still love him, but you couldn't trust your unit to be gone a decaorn," Ezara told her, almost pleading. "It's not like they're on their own anymore."

"No," Elita-1 admitted. "The hardest part will be keeping most of them from trying to tag along, all things considered. I'm not the only one with a partner on Earth right now, and the others will want to go eventually, if it can be done in a reasonable time, just to try and help out on the front lines instead of having to sneak around all the time."

"That would be up to Optimus more than me, but we're planning decoranly runs to Cybertron," Ezara explained. "The ship's small, but it's only a decacycle each way."

"You've definitely got us on speed," Elita-1 chuckled lowly. "So, think we can be trusted to return to a base?"

"That's up to Ultra Magnus. It's his base," Ezara said as they walked out to join the others. "I'm going to guess that Firestar, Inferno, Moonracer and Powerglide went looking for a little privacy," she chuckled with a bit of a smile towards Cybertron's Autobot commander.

"And would I be right that you two have come to an ... understanding?" he looked between Elita-1 and Ezara, privately very relieved that there didn't seem to be much tension there.

"As much as we can on Cybertron," Ezara flicked her chin up.

"I was just asking if we could return to base, at least once we get the attention of our wayward troops," Elita-1 chuckled, sending out a light reminder for Moonracer and Firestar.

"Yes," he nodded, giving his own Autobots a similar prod. "Will you be visiting Earth when Ezara returns?"

"Most likely, assuming there's room for everything else that's already going back," she nodded with a slight smile. "And yes, Chromia, you'll probably be able to go too, soon," she added. "We'll just need to sort everything else out first, and we can't leave the others without _either_ of their leaders," she cut off the question she knew was coming.

"You can come next decaorn," Ezara suggested.

"There's two of four," Chromia noted Powerglide and Moonracer's appearance, her unit-sister very much back to her bubbly, giggling self.

"If we don't have the other two _very_ soon, they'll have to find their own way back," Elita observed, broadcasting exactly that message. "And I don't guarantee that they'll enjoy getting there when they do," she added.

"We're here," Firestar called out slightly as she walked towards them, Inferno's fingers entwined with hers. "You two look happier," she observed when she got a closer look at Elita-1 and Ezara.

"It went well," Elita-1 nodded.

"All right," Ultra Magnus said as he looked over the larger than normal group. "Transform and follow me."


	12. First Steps

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Elita-1/Optimus Prime, Jazz/Blaster, Skywarp/Ezara  
_Rating_: R for M/F, NC-17 for M/M  
_Codes_: Het, Slash  
_Summary_: When Ezara returns to Earth, she brings many surprises, but the biggest one comes in the form of an ambush why she's supposed to be relaxing over the Middle East.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home 25: First Steps**

* * *

It was quite probably the longest twenty-three joor in most of their lives, but every single bot in the small, cramped alien ship found that the conditions, literally standing room only, to be the least of the difficulties. Excitement about seeing the new world, loved ones thought lost, getting into battle when there was a real chance of making progress all played into it ... but the hardest part for everyone was the subtle tension that still existed between Elita-1 and Ezara, and to a much lesser extent, between Blaster and Ezara.

Their pilot was quiet, absorbed by whatever thoughts occupied her. While Ezara was willing to answer questions, polite about it and occasionally excited, it had quickly become clear to everyone that she wanted to be left to her thoughts. Between the situations with her lovers and the two stasis-locked Decepticons shoved into a box mean to hold her, no one could be all that surprised by the time it had all come out.

Especially the part about the stasis-box being meant to hold her. No one misinterpreted the tone in her voice; that it wasn't for travel, but to keep her prisoner.

No one dared asked how she ended up with the ship belonging to her enemy.

So most of the twenty-three joor was spent in tense, physically uncomfortable silence until the comm panel beeped for attention.

"Hey, hot stuff," Jazz's voice was warm and happy as he greeted Ezara. "How'd thin's go?"

"Besides what you know about, not bad," Ezara admitted. "Just _please_ tell me Prowl found something for me to do for a few joor."

"Oh ya'," his voice grinned over the comm. "Your favorite pilot's even in it. Ta keep ya good'n busy."

Ezara actually chuckled lightly. "I owe him one."

"I heard that," Prowl's voice was even.

"And I expect you'll hold me to it when it's most annoying for me," she chuckled. "Coming in for planetary approach," she said before signing off. "Elita-1, Blaster, humor me and wait to come out until _after_ I get in the air, okay?"

"Agreed," Elita-1 nodded, sure she knew exactly why, and why there was a combat mission waiting for the warrior as soon as they touched down. They both knew Optiums wasn't likely to be with her again and she wasn't happy about it, for all she'd accepted it.

Blaster glanced at Elita-1, and nodded himself. "Sure thing. You know you don't hav'ta go," he said. "I, we'd...."

"Blaster, you two haven't seen each other in _four ganon_," Ezara said smoothly as she guided the ship in towards the west coast of the smaller northern continent. "At least give him a chance to have you all to himself."

The Autobot communications officer nodded again, still uneasy about having her go off to battle, but out of ideas on how to stop her.

"She's a warrior," Elita-1 told him softly as the ship set down and she and Blaster shifted away from the hatch so they could leave last. "That _is_ what'll make her feel better."

"She does have that right," Ezara nodded as she maneuvered towards the hatch to be first out. Optimus was there to greet her, as was Prowl, Jazz, Ratchet and Wheeljack.

Ezara took one step out and found herself wrapped in Jazz's arms. Tracks couldn't help but chuckle at her startled response and judged it safe to emerge when she kissed the shorter white mech.

"Welcome to Earth," Optimus Prime greeted Tracks, Beachcomber and Seaspray when they emerged.

"Glad to be on a world with water," Seaspray grinned at him. "And to see how well your mission went."

"Save it, thief," Ezara's tone was teasing as she pulled away from Jazz.

"I'm a saboteur," he countered as he let her go, watching with evident concern as she took off and transformed to jet mode. It wasn't until she'd powered her engines to full and vanished from sight that he turned his attention to the meet and greet going on.

"Hey there," Blaster's voice was music to his audio receptors as Jazz turned to greet his long-time lover. "You sure know how to pick'm."

"Ya have no idea," Jazz grinned, placing his hands on Blaster's shoulders and bowing his head slightly to touch foreheads. "It's good to see you again," he murmured.

"Ditto," Blaster's voice was softer, more level, than usual. Suddenly he stiffened. "You _didn't_!"

Jazz couldn't help but chuckle. "Was't mah idea," he protested his innocence, which caught Optimus' attention.

"Problem?" he asked.

"No, just a surprise," Jazz said. "And why Ezara took off so fast."

"Hello, Optimus," Elita-1 said as she stepped into the sunlight and took in the barren land, the state of the Ark, but mostly the shocked expression on her life-long lover.

"You're ... you're a...live?.... I ...." he stammered, stunned moment, involuntarily gravitating forward to embrace her. "How... why ... why didn't somebody tell me before now?

"We decided for the surprise," she smiled and wrapped her arms around her neck, meeting his lowered forehead. "There is so much we need to talk about."

"Like what you've been up to for the last four ganon," he agreed, hugging her tightly. ~I never thought I'd see you again,~ he told her silently and felt her welcome him, wrapping her processors around his for the first time in far too long. ~Why didn't you find Ultra Magnus?~

"I thought you were dead," she whispered between their minds, the full pain of it equal to his own. "The Decepticons thought we were dead. We could do so much more when they weren't looking for us."

"My quarters?" he offered, hoping to find somewhere more private for them to catch up.

"Yes," she nodded as she stepped back slightly. "Wheeljack, Ezara left you a gift in the stasis chamber."

"A gift?" the engineer looked confused.

"Two Decepticons that have been through the Forge," she explained. "Captured on the rescue mission."

"I'll get Caurun to remove them safely, and Perceptor to help me look through their heads," Wheeljack nodded. "Anybody I know?" He asked her, turning to get the other two mechs.

"Hopefully not in person," Blaster couldn't quite suppress the shudder. "Hotspike and Coldspike."

"Come on," Jazz squeezed him gently. "Let's party at ma place. Get that image outa ya head."

"It'll be my pleasure," Blaster agreed, following him inside. "It's been a rough few orn ... I should probably let Ratchet check me out later."

"Rescue mission?" Optimus looked down at Elita-1 as they entered the Ark and made their way to his quarters.

"Blaster was captured shortly before Ezara arrived on Cybertron. Once she made the energon drop, she took Hot Rod and Kup to break him out. They found and pulled Moonracer out while they were there. Which lead to my being here, since our survival was no longer a secret to either side," she explained briefly.

"Makes sense," he said, opening the door to his quarters and closing it behind them. "I'll need some details on what's happened ... but that can wait," he said, taking her hand and pressing against her, savoring the contact and opening his mind to her.

"It's been too long," Elita-1 moaned into the touch and extended herself to intertwine their processors to the point no one could tell where one began and the other ended. "Ezara...." she tried to form the thoughts, to finish business before they became too lost in each other and the pleasure of joining.

"Isn't you," he promised her, everything he was behind the statement. "Even if she wants to keep our relationship going, you were first ... and she's hardly lacking for other attention," he explained. "What do _you_ want?"

"I want this alliance strong," she managed to pull her thoughts together enough. "A handful of metacycles of sharing you, even her full lifetime, is nothing compared to what we will receive in return. I know you love me completely, no matter what you share with her. It is enough."

"Thank you for understanding," he murmured into their contact, grateful they had come to the same conclusion for the same reasons. "If you're sure, I'll let her know - later though. For now, it's just the two of us."

"Yes," she moaned, her processors shivering with the near-overload from simply being with him again after so long.

* * *

Optimus Prime's entire body went rigid as the klaxon blared. He felt Elita-1's do the same just before they were both on their feet. The conversations, memories and pleasure they were sharing were already left behind as they rushed to the control room just in time to hear Ezara's agonized scream over Teletraan-1's speakers. Prowl was working furiously at the powerful computer's controls.

Jazz and Blaster arrived just as Optimus began to demand what was going on.

"I'm still working on that," Prowl admitted. "She's over Iran and taking damage," he said what he knew.

A string of cursing in a dozen languages, human and other, that soon issued from Teletraan-1's speakers made Jazz wince.

"Decepticons?" Optimus asked, taking in what little tactical information he had. Realistically, it was the only likely answer. Nothing native to this world could come close damaging her enough to piss her off, much less prompt her to call for help.

"Yes!" Ezara snarled over the open comm link. "Stay still and die, damn you!" she snarled at someone in the Decepticon dialect of Cybertron. "No, get the frag out of here!" she called to someone else in English, all the while feeding every scrap of data she could to Teletraan-1.

"What is going on?" Optimus demanded.

"I listen to you too much," she snapped just before the transmission crackled and she yelped in pain. "Damnit! I can't protect you _and_ fight," she barked in English. "Get your friggin tails _out_ of here."

"Details," Optimus demanded, even as he sent Ratchet, Wheeljack, Caurun, Ironhide and several others ahead to try and help with the battle and piece together whoever needed it.

"Six seekers, nine USAF fighters and me," Ezara said tersely, most of her focus on a combination of staying alive and protecting the humans in the air with her. "Deceps jumped us."

The Autobots watched, disturbed, as Teletraan-1 finally tracked her down well enough to display the location. Even for a purely aerial battle, it was moving across the landscape fast. The human jets were trying to retreat, the six Decepticon jets were trying to shoot them down, and Ezara was doing her best to protect the humans between shooting back, taking strikes meant for them and making herself too dangerous to be ignored.

"Return to base," he ordered her, putting every scrap of authority his status and experience gave him behind the words. "NOW."

"When they're clear," she refused outright, though there wasn't a single Autobot that could object to her reasoning this time. "I'll live," she grunted at Ramjet crashed into her, knocking her towards the ground hard even as she nearly cleaved him in two with her much harder, and sharper, frame.

"Now!" Optimus Prime ordered, this time in her native Tezita, as she regained flight control. He could see they were about to come within range of the Navy fighters rushing to help them from the gulf.

They watched her continue to fight, and knew the instant she was aware of the other fighters entering range. Without so much as a word she suddenly powered her engines to full and hit the upper atmosphere and towards the Ark. Even Starscream seemed startled by the sudden shift in tactics and how fast she escaped their range; right before a missile caught him square in the side and he realized that his forces were now outnumbered to the point it wasn't worth it.

"Call back the team," Optimus ordered quietly. "Prowl...."

"I don't know why they were in the area," his SiC said, not showing how shaken he was that the mission _he'd_ put together to be a nice distraction for her had turned into such a mess. "That should have been a simple skirmish or two with Iranian forces. Something she can do in recharge mode without the USAF fighters. It's all that's gone on in the area for metacycles."

"They might have followed her," Elita-1 suggested. "I understand that she has made quite an enemy in Starscream."

"It's way mutual," Jazz spoke up as he tried to hail Ezara with Teletraan-1. "Ya okay, babe?"

"You two and your morals are going to be the death of me," she grumbled, though there wasn't any real anger behind her words. "I can fly, it just hurts."

"Ya want'n energon bath ready?" he offered, sure she was downplaying her damages a lot. "Or just a warm berth?"

"I'll settle for not getting yelled at," she answered quietly, her defiance already shifting to dread. "I was just protectin'm."

"I know, babe," Jazz tried to reassure her as Blaster stood behind him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "So does Prime," Jazz looked at his leader, silently pleading for him to back the statement up. "You did it for the right reason."

"I will not encourage this behavior," Optimus Prime told her, his tone even for all he really was furious, though not entirely at her.

"I'm not so thrilled myself," she cut him off, a bit of her fire coming back with the change in who she was addressing. "It's not like I went looking for them," she pointed out. "I protected my unit when we were ambushed. I will not apologize for that."

Optimus Prime sighed deeply. She was right, for all he hated to admit that anything that damaged her was the right thing to do.

"Optimus, she's a warrior to her very core programming," Elita-1 told him silently with a touch. "You can't protect her against everything. She'll turn on you if you try. She _needs_ to fight."

"I can't let her be killed, either," he responded over the touch-link. "Too much is at stake. When did you become an expert on her?"

"Since our little chat on Cybertron. She let me touch her. Love, she did the right thing," Elita-1 reminded him, sure she'd gotten through this time. "Don't punish her for it."

"You don't need to," Optimus told Ezara out loud. "You're right, you made the correct choice in protecting your team. Come home and see to your repairs. The humans made it back to their base safely."

There was a lingering silence before she responded. "Good," the single word carried both the weight of her honest relief and how much pain she was in.

Optimus motioned Jazz to follow him out of the control room so there was no chance she could overhear them.

"When did she become so interested in protecting humans?" he fixed the bot who understood her better than any with a concerned gaze.

"It's not all humans, not yet," Jazz told him. "That ... had nothin' ta do with humans. She was just protectin' her team. It's still a lot that she's acceptin' humans as teammates, and that she's fond of the leader of that wing...."

"She _knows_ the human pilot?" Prime stopped him.

"Chance meeting, th' first time," Jazz said. "He fought well. Understood when sh' asked ta play. Prowl 'n I've tried ta send her ta 'relax' with his wing when sh' wants ta play."

"I ... see," Optimus said, considering how much had happened he was apparently unaware of. "How will Blaster being here affect your time with Ezara?"

"Very little, Prime," Jazz grinned up at him. "He likes'r, sh's okay with'im."

"Good," Optimus decided. "Unless she _asks_ for me, I'll leave her to you. I want to know why the Seekers were there," he added before turning to collect Elita-1 and return to his quarters with her.

"So do I," Jazz said to himself as he returned to the control room to talk to Prowl and try to work out what had gone wrong.

They both took pause when a Seeker appear near her, but once they saw it was just Skywarp, they both relaxed. Prowl moved make her conversation audible, but Jazz stopped him.

"I'll hear it soon 'nuf," he pointed out. "Long as she's headed 're, let 'er be."

Despite his misgivings, Prowl nodded and left her that small measure of privacy with her enemy lover.

* * *

Jazz was alone when he greeted Ezara at the entrance of the Ark. Even before she landed, he could tell it was a good idea. It was a subtle shift in her battered frame when she saw he was the only one there, but he saw it.

Relief.

As she transformed to land, he took note that she was in better shape than he'd expected too, given what he'd heard. Scorched and battered, dried energon and lubricants from bullet holes scattered about her frame, but no real chunks were missing. Her self-repair systems should be able to handle it in an orn or three of rest.

"Come on, you ain't in any trouble," he assured as he slid an arm around her waist and guided her inside.

"Just need to zone for a couple days," she moved her chin up slightly in acceptance. "I can see myself to my quarters," she said, making it an offer.

"Now what kinda mech would I be if I let ya do that?" Jazz looked up at her to take the sting out of it.

"One who hasn't seen his life-lover in an insanely long time," she murmured as it registered he was guiding her to _his_ quarters. "But Blaster."

"Would love t' warm yer other side," Jazz smiled up at her. "Come on, let us show ya a good time."

"I'm ... not sure I'm in the mood," she admitted quietly, though she didn't resist his direction either.

"Ya want ta just rest?" his smile turned understanding.

"Yeah," Ezara murmured. "At least for now. It hasn't been a great decaorn. I miss the down-time a bit."

"All right," he nodded reluctantly, though he still walked her to her barren quarters.

As he let her go, she turned and kissed him lightly. "Thank you," she whispered before she disappeared into the basically empty room.

Jazz made a mental note to check on her in four joor and returned to his lifelong lover and his quarters.

"She make it back okay?" Blaster looked at Jazz in concern when the white mech entered alone.

"Yeah, she's fine," Jazz said as he closed the distance between them and claimed a heated kiss, their processors entwining without hesitation or effort. "Just wanted ta be alone f'r'a bit."

"Can't say I can blame her," Blaster murmured across their minds as they moved to Jazz's berth and relaxed, as much of their bodies in contact as they could. "You're surprised she was trying to keep the humans safe," he observed.

"I'za new behavior," he nodded, the physical world abandoned for the cyber they created for themselves. "A good one, bu' new. 'Specially with Screamer on the field."

"She really has it in for him, huh?" Blaster chuckled, embracing his lover's human form, his own lean body pressing up against Jazz's. "How hot are things between you two?" He asked curiously.

"Hot 'nough not ta last," Jazz kissed him, both their moans captured by the other's mouth as hands explored forms both familiar and new. "She's not into the exclusive thing at'll. Think ya'll like her."

"Sounds good - glad she's giving us some alone time first though," he added, kissing Jazz heatedly. "Been _way_ too long."

"I'm surprised," Jazz didn't hide his gratitude in the least as he pulled Blaster onto a large, soft bed. "All three of her lovers are off-limits today. She canna be happy, even if she suggested it."

"You, Prime and...." Blaster asked as be rolled Jazz to his back and began kissing his way down the human's neck.

"Skywarp," Jazz groaned, willingly letting Blaster pin his wrists to the bed as they rubbed sensitive skin against sensitive skin and made out. "Wonder who she's going to drag inta bed."

"Whoever knocks first," Blaster guessed with a chuckle.

"Poor Prowl," Jazz couldn't stop the riotous laughter that bubbled up.

"Hey, he could use somebody pulling the rod out of his tailpipe," Blaster smirked, kissing Jazz's neck. "I like this look for you," he added approvingly.

"Good," Jazz smiled and repaid the attention by tipping his head back, exposing his throat, and spreading his legs to bring them up and rub them along his long-time lover's. The beat of the music that never stilled in their of their minds began to mingle, forming a new song that was both of them.

"Hungry little DJ," Blaster grinned down at him.

"Always," Jazz grinned back, thrusting his hips up to rub their erections against each other.

"Oh, Baby," Blaster moaned as he sank his erection into Jazz's body, his lover taking him to the hilt as their mouths locked. Motions they had both learned through trial and error, then by watching bios, came naturally, instinctively, now.

* * *

Ezara hated the lie she'd just told, hated even more that Jazz knew it for the lie it was. She couldn't help but whisper a nearly silent thanks to him in her dark quarters for letting her have that small lie. The truth they both knew was that she very much wanted company, very much wanted someone to touch her and make her forget the beating she'd just taken from inferior mechs to protect some fleshling creatures that wouldn't survive a vorn at most.

By the grace of whatever made him special, he'd also realized that there was no one on Earth, or quite probably anywhere, that could really do that.

By the grace of all creators, her mental co-habitations also seemed to see fit to leave her be on this one.

"Some lessons must be learned, not taught," she sighed the familiar phrase and lay down on her berth to mull over what had possessed her, and why part of her was still quite willing to shout Prime down in front of his troops if she had to over it. She'd done the _right_ thing and she knew it.

With a half-disgruntled, half-resigned sound she powered her optics off and allowed her mind to drift. A detailed list of what needed to be done to meet her suitors properly. What needed to be done before the challenge. Check on Prowl, make sure he wasn't in trouble over her fight. A list of supplies and time needed to built the power station that Mitrix had dumped in her memory.

She truly despised transitions. They were nothing but pain and suspicious feelings all around until she proved she'd settled completely into the new mores and wasn't faking.

Why, _why_ did the Decepticons have to be so inappropriate as rulers? She got along with them so much better. Crude, brutal, violent and not a little crazy, but it was what she knew from her earliest days and it still came easier than this civilized stuff everyone wanted of her.

Ezara's entire body ached, inside and out, but in a very different way than usual. Alone with only herself, she had a rare opportunity to really look at her existence through her own optics and desires uncolored by her duties or predecessors. There was no desperate longing for a Si'Kae, much less one that was so calm. Little attraction to authority or power, other than as a way to prove her superiority and protect herself. The hungers in her were simple again; energy, pleasure, violence, victory ... and the one she did her best to deny; to feel protected, to be safe fro harm.

Yet she could feel it shifting, even as the basic core held steady. It wasn't much of a stretch to go from gladiator to defender, and that was the nature this time and place demanded of her for her survival.

Another disgruntled sound escaped her.

"Guess it could be worse," she muttered and willed herself into a deep stasis to let her processors continue to integrate the change without thinking about it. While still enough on-line to respond to the outside if needed, it would still her thoughts until she was fit again.

* * *

Prowl knocked on Ezara's door lightly. He didn't want to disturb her if she was resting, but the promptly door slid open to a dark room.

"Please tell me Prime doesn't want to see me yet," her voice was low, tired, with just a traced of resigned dread in it.

"No," he answered, surprised that _that_ was what came to her mind first. He stepped inside, letting the door slide shut behind him. It left them both in complete darkness, but he knew where she was from when she'd spoken. "You aren't in trouble," he told her as he walked to her berth and sat down on the edge. "He's like that when someone he cares about is in danger."

"I wasn't in that much danger," she objected. "Megatron wasn't on the field."

"You were taking damage," Prowl pointed out. "That's enough. I came to see if you were okay."

"Getting there," she told him, reaching out towards his voice to put a hand on his leg. "Self-repair won't take much longer. An orn or two and I'll be fit again. Are you?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Prowl only just controlled the surprise in his tone, though he was sure she felt it through the light touch on his leg.

"He was angry, you were there and planned the mission," she said before her voice drifted off.

"Prime's not like that," he told her firmly. "You know that."

"I know, but he was so angry," she murmured.

"He was scared for you," Prowl corrected her calmly even as he noted that her fingers were playing along the smooth metal of his upper leg, though she didn't reach out through the connection he knew she could create so easily over it. "That's all."

"He ... does he care about _me_, or what I represent?" she finally asked in the darkness.

Prowl sighed to himself. "You've been far deeper in his mind that I will ever be. I believe he cares about you," he paused as he felt her extend a gentle tendril of awareness into his circuits, asking for admittance ... and the attention she usually got from others. In the background, his processors informed him that he was the only Autobot she hadn't shared pleasure with yet. He couldn't help but wonder if that was her interest in him now.

Deep inside, he hoped he was making the correct tactical choice, but he needed to go with what he believed in.

"No," he told her gently, blocking her contact and removing her hand. "I'd be happy to pass on your request to anyone who is off duty and not otherwise occupied."

He caught the briefest flicker of disappointment from her before he let her hand go, and allowed the silence to drag on.

"I'm sorry," Ezara eventually said, her tone honest. "You're just here."

"I understand," Prowl said as he stood. "Would you like someone?"

"If Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are available...." she said after a moment.

"I believe they are," Prowl nodded, though she couldn't see it, and left her quarters to inform the twins of her request. He had no doubt they'd jump at the opportunity, and probably be out of commission for an orn when she was done with them.


	13. Katas and Sparing

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Elita-1/Optimus Prime, Optimus Prime/Ezara, Jazz/Ezara  
_Rating_: PG  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary_: Ezara gives the entire Ark a show as she practices her katas, but it's Jazz's promise of seeing her favorite pilot that gets her excited about the day.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 13: Katas and Sparing**

* * *

"Optimus, if you aren't too busy, you might want to come down to Bay 3," Prowl said over the comm link.

"Critical?" Optimus asked, his tone distracted.

"No, merely fascinating," Prowl responded, a steady pattern of sound going on in the background. "She's quite skilled with a sword."

"Thank you," Optimus said before cutting the connection and looking at Elita-1. "We probably should been seen in public," he murmured. "And tell her what we decided."

"Mmm, yes, they really should see their leader after three decacycles," she smiled and reluctantly, slowly, extracted her processors from his with nearly as much pleasure as entwining them had been.

"I've missed you so much," Optimus said out loud, reluctantly allowing her to break the physical contact as she stood.

"As have I," Elita-1 smiled and took his hand as he stood. Seeing the pair walk hand-in-hand in the corridors would have been a rare sight, but no one was there to see it. Everyone not on duty was gathered in Bay 3, crowded along the wall with the entranceway.

"Don't cross the line," Ironhide told them as they walked in, pointing to an energon-pink marker painted on the floor. "Impressive for a sparkling, really," he added as Optimus and Elita-1 took in the almost-music-like clicking in the background and the way Ezara was moving with a ruby sword. It looked very much like she was fighting someone, only no one was opposing her.

"Understood," Optimus nodded, watching his newest warrior with a calculating gaze. If it was just Ezara moving, she was indeed good for her age, but he knew that already from her memories of the matches with Starscream.

"Pause. Reset to 16.5.13," Ezara said with open frustration as she stopped and dropped into a neutral position to begin her last series of moves again. "Go."

"How many tries has she made at this sequence?" Elita-1 asked quietly.

"This's four," Jazz told her. "I can'a tell what she's doin' wrong."

"I can," Elita-1 said, waiting for the reset to be called again. "Ezara," she called out, wanting to get the femme's attention before making any move closer. "I see what is happening," she continued when Ezara stood up fully and looked at her.

"Show me," Ezara said, her tone more request than order as she motioned her closer.

Elita-1 nodded and stepped past the energon-pink line and into the danger zone. "Is this what you are trying to do?" she asked before activating an energy saber as she dropped into the same combat stance Ezara has been starting in. As everyone watched, she made the same sequence of fluid jabs, blocks and slices under Ezara's critical eye.

"Yes, that is what I'm trying," she flicked her chin up. "I know the sword is unbalanced for this level, but mostly I'm just not getting it right."

"Are you absolutely sure you are fully repaired?" Elita-1 asked. "You balance favoring your left heal and hip, and you right shoulder, just a fraction. That's what's throwing the rest of the movements off. It wouldn't be noticeable with attempting anything less precise."

Ezara shifted her balance to a neutral one on both feet and all but shut her entire system down to begin the most exacting self-examination she'd ever bothered with. Tiny cracks in her structure, things she never thought about before as they formed and repaired every decacycle, were isolated, repaired, and the underlying structural issues that created them addressed.

"Should I..." Ratchet looked between the two femmes, not entirely sure what was going on, but concerned when 'fully repaired' came up.

"No," Elita-1 motioned him off. "This is not about your level of repairs."

"My level?" Ratchet bristled.

"You don't do nano, Ratchet," Elita-1 chuckled, her focus back on Ezara as the Tezita came fully on-line again.

"There was some minor damage," she admitted. "Nothing I haven't always lived with."

"Have you ever gotten this right?" Elita-1 raised an eyeridge, and smiled at the look that answered it. She backed out of the practice space as Ezara sank into the starting pose and set the 'music' to play again.

"How do you know an advanced military kata from Lydrom?" Caurun asked with more than a touch of bewilderment.

"I don't," she gave him a knowing look. "I repeated what she did, without the mistakes. Nothing more."

"Nothing more?" he stared at her in open shock. "You _do_ realize that sequence takes metacycles, if not cyracycles, to lean under a master."

"It takes that long because those training to do it are learning far more than the movements," Elita-1 explained as Ezara ran through the sequence again. "I can replicate what I see, adjust for an imperfect form, but I can't _do_ anything with it. She can take those movements out of context, and she has them down to the point she doesn't have to think about it any more. There is a great difference between my little trick and actually being trained."

"So how's sh' doin' now?" Jazz asked, honestly not able to discern the difference beyond that Ezara's energy resonance was harmonious; she was happier.

"Not perfect, but what's off now is likely do to the quality of the weapon, not her," Elita-1 said, watching as she moved onto another kata. "How long has she been at this?"

"Accordin' to th' twins, near five cycles," Jazz responded.

"Full sequence takes six, _when_ I get it right first time," Ezara answered what was coming next, startling almost everyone who'd assumed she wasn't paying them any attention. "Yes, I can hear you."

"This has little in common with your fighting style," Optimus observed after a while.

"I fight from arena training and instinct. This is military fencing," Ezara explained. "This is humoring my officers expectations of a leader."

"Is it actually necessary, as a part of your challenge?" Optimus asked her. "Or an added bonus?"

"It's part of the challenge, just not a determining factor," she said, growling as she missed another move by a fraction. "A leader _should_ be as well-educated in tradition as they are. They were raised to believe in it."

"Until your instructor is here, would you like to work with Elita?" He asked, looking between the two femmes, not entirely sure how good the idea would be.

"She won't be here much," Ezara pointed out as she worked through the motions again. "I'll be on Cybertron even less."

"But until while we are on the same world, we can have you in better shape than when she saw you last," Elita-1 added.

"Pause," Ezara ordered as she brought herself to a neutral stance and considered the offer and Elita-1 fully. It _would_ be nice to have someone to correct her form, even if Elita-1 didn't understand the form or reasons behind it. But could she really deal with working that closely with Optimus' mate?

She'd done harder things to get this far, she finally decided. She'd just have to be extra careful not to injure the pink femme.

"If you have the spare time, it would be welcome," Ezara's tone was both diplomatic and welcoming, hiding little of the conflict of interests she felt.

"If I have it," Elita-1 agreed. "I won't be able to complete it for you either way, of course, but you may make a favorable impression."

"Wow," Windcharger murmured, taking in the scene as he swung by to see what all the fuss was about.

"Wait until Da'rei arrives," Ezara said, still moving through maneuvers that were becoming rougher, less skilled, with each set. "You'll see what's possible."

"Emirc Corsa Da'rei," Optimus Prime supplied. "Her fencing instructor."

"Oldest warrior alive," Ezara added, grunting when she overreached a thrust too much to recover within the kata. While she caught herself with reasonable grace, swinging her weapon backwards to help pull her center of balance closer to her center of gravity, it also signaled the end of efforts at that kata. "Reset to 28.0," she let out a sigh.

"Ezara, giv't a rest," Jazz said, stepping forward into the danger zone before she dropped into the zone again. "Ya have time."

"Five to six metacycles to learn something that usually takes three to four more cyracycles?" she looked at him, then shook her head with a chuckle. "Time is one thing I don't have."

"Then takin' an day off can'a hurt," Jazz gave her his most winning smile. "Ya need more airtim' too. Mirage 'n I woul'na mind th' company."

Her optics narrowed, openly suspicious of his motives and final plan, but it all went away after a glance at Optimus and Elita-1 standing together.

"Enie, fine," she flicked her chin up. "_If_ you teach me that disappearing trick you do."

"Ezara, a moment," Optimus interrupted their conversation, causing the gathering to quickly disperse.

Jazz quickly made himself scarce near the doorway. Far enough away to not be intruding, but close enough to catch ever nuance of her reaction. Good or bad, he wanted to catch her full response to news she'd been dreading for decacycles. If this was at Decepticon headquarters, she'd have been carefully disarmed first, but here, Optimus Prime showed trust by approaching her in her current state and they all knew it.

"Yes," Ezara met his optics with no trace of the trepidation she felt deep in her core. Her sword was loose in her hand, it's tip resting on the ground. Even so, she could cleave him in half before anyone could react if it crossed her mind to do so.

"Elita-1 agreed to allow us to continue," he said softly, reaching out to cup her face gently. Even with as light as the contact was, he caught just how intense the dread was. Strong enough that it lingered past when she processed his words, and only broke when she met Elita-1's optics to confirm the statement.

Slowly she reached her hand up to slide along his and dimmed her optics in the rush of relief that hit in the next pulse of her systems.

"Is this what you want?" she powered her optics up again to meet his, her words silent across the touch.

"Yes," he smiled slightly behind his mask, privately pleased that she'd picked up enough Autobot ways to even think to double-check. "Once Elita-1 has gone home with the next energon run."

"Fair enough," Ezara smiled a bit shyly before she stepped back, breaking the contact and walking towards the door where Jazz was waiting.

"Mirage does the disappearing trick," Jazz glanced up at her as they walked out of the bay, picking up their conversation where it had left off.

"The one with your weapon, and Optimus with his trailer," she elaborated, her mood an odd mix of giddy and impatient. "Not there, here, and gone again."

"Oh, subspacing," Jazz grinned. "Sure thing. You want to drop that off in your quarters?" he glanced at her sword. "It's not a trick I can teach that quickly. Ratchet might be involved too. Can a' ask ya a question?"

"Why not," she said as their steps entered the officer's quarters. "No promises I have an answer."

"Fair 'nuf," he agreed. "If ya' _liked_ Screamer ... would we have hada chance?"

It didn't take much before she shook her head slightly. "No, I don't think you would have. But then, neither would the Decepticons," she added as she tapped in the basic lock on her door. It was one that had far more to do with letting her know if someone had been in her quarters than actually keeping anyone out. "As Air Commander I would have decimated their numbers in making them a proper military. Of course, that assumes that a _sane_ Starscream would still have become the Decepticon SiC and Air Commander, which I find highly doubtful," she continued as she walked into her quarters and the door slid shut behind them.

It was still barren to a quick optic sweep, but if you knew how to look, as Jazz did, one could see how she was imprinting herself on them. It was just, like any good chameleon, she kept what she prized artfully concealed in plain sight. And like any good chameleon, he knew how to spot it.

"True," he granted, watching with renewed respect for the fact that she allowed him to _watch_ her put her most prized possession inside the wall. It had once been solid, like anything else, but at some point she had consumed the material of that spot, just enough for her weapon, and replaced it with the nanites that formed her body. When she touched it, it melted open and closed at her will, but not even Wheeljack and Perceptor could find it when it was solid.

"Why do you ask?" she glanced at him as the wall swallowed her sword.

"What ya said earlier, about him, made me wonder," he glossed over the fact that it had actually been an utterly terrifying moment before he processed that the possibility was long past.

Ezara considered him evenly for a moment. "I still fit in with them better," she told him with a slight shrug. "It's also well past the point where that matters. So what's the patrol?"

"Sector 4C, 3 B and C," he told her as they walked to the entrance of the Ark and were joined by Mirage. "The Air Force was wondering if you'd help put their new fighter prototype through the paces."

"Okay, _that_ sounds like fun," her grin lit up the dawn. "It'll meet us on patrol?"

"That's the idea," Jazz couldn't help but chuckle even as he was reminded of just how much a bot of extremes she was. Focused, happy, passionate, angry, numb ... it didn't matter what her state of the moment was, she gave herself to it wholly and without reservation.

* * *

"Yahhhoooo!" Ezara's full-volume howl of exaltation shook the rocks as she blasted across the sky almost perpendicular to Jazz and Mirage. Her patrol path was a wide, tight zig-zag centered on the two cars so she didn't loose them completely.

"She's in a good mood," Mirage chuckled.

"Two pieces a good news in'a cycle," Jazz grinned audibly. "Sh's easy ta please."

"That's not what I heard," Mirage teased his CO and long-time friend.

"Differn't subject, man," Jazz chuckled. "I'm talkn' out'a the berth. Doesn't take much ta make'r smile."

"I'll take your word for it," Mirage consented. "When will the Air Force be showing up?"

"When we're outside Area 51," Jazz answered. "Bird's stationed there."

"Heh - they know _we're_ coming too, don't they?" Mirage asked him. "Hate to get shot at along with her."

"They know," Jazz laughed easily. "Though I'm half-surprised they asked for 'er, given what she did the last time she was there. Shredded the place with Megs and crew," he added at Mirage's curious beep. "But they want'er bad enough ta pull a top pilot off the front line to fly with 'er."

"That's probably _why_ they want her," he pointed out. "That, or they've got something up their sleeves to get back at her, but I doubt that. Most likely, they just want to see if they can beat what beat them now."

"It ocurr'ta me too," Jazz admitted. "Still nothin' on this planet that can catch'r when she's try'n."

"Hay guys," Ezara's voice came over the comm as they picked her up on their sensors, flying low and far too fast towards them on a nearly parallel trajectory that would put her in front of them barely a hundred yards if everyone kept their speed. "They're hailing us to stay clear."

"To stay _clear_?" Jazz clarified as the tip of one wing bit lightly into the sandy road just ahead of them before she flipped skyward. "Transmit back, let them know who you are and that we're expected," he instructed as he and Mirage slowed down and Ezara came down to fly directly over them at barely thirty miles an hour, her shadow covering them both.

Even though it was completely unnecessary and could be downright annoying at times, Jazz never stopped being a little warmed by the move. Even if it was in her own, self-important way, it was still an act of caring towards them.

"To turn away. That we're approaching restricted airspace," she gave the exact phrasing before they heard her transmission aimed at the base still far ahead of them.

::Is she shielding us?:: Mirage asked on a heavily encrypted signal that he expected she couldn't pick up.

::Yap,:: Jazz answered back. ::It's a Tezita warrior thing an' it's _good_. Means she's accepted us as 'er unit. Their strongest warriors protect the weaker.::

::Maybe they're not so bad,:: Mirage murmured, largely to himself.

::Long as'ur on their good side,:: Jazz chuckled. ::Honor they have.::

"Groom Lake," she addressed them not by the letter and number designation they had hailed her as but with the official name of the facility. "This is Ezara Onyan'a of the Vistra in the air with Jazz and Mirage of the Autobots on the ground. General Robert Herres invited us to this facility."

::She's crazy, you know that, right?:: Mirage asked his CO.

::Like a fox,:: Jazz audibly grinned at him.

Now tuned into the correct frequency, all three heard the reply from the isolated base.

::Hold your position,:: a female voice instructed him.

Without question both Autobots stopped and Ezara flipped her nose upwards as she transformed to stand slightly in from of them, much as Prime and Ironhide would in a tense situation.

"They're just be'n careful," Jazz transformed and put a hand on her shoulder, trying to keep her out of the fight-or-flight mindset she fell into far too easily at times.

"I did trash the place a couple months ago," she acknowledged they had good reason to be wary of her. "Cut what was probably their prize possession loose."

Though the touch Jazz caught the why and gasped in shock.

"Of course I cut'r loose," Ezara glanced towards him, not quite getting his reaction.

"Were there any _other_ people imprisoned?" He asked instead.

"Not that I picked up," she said cautiously. "You look surprised."

"I dinna know they had prisoners here," he admitted quietly.

"I don't think they did either," Ezara murmured.

"No humanoid form?" Mirage asked, guessing the subject of the conversation. "Or didn't have the chance to use it?"

"She thought she'd been in stasis for a long time when I woke her by scanning her form," Ezara said. "If she had one, she wasn't interested in showing it. Just took long enough to work out which way was up and blasted free. Probably out of the system before anybody realized what had zoomed by."

"If she wasn't awake for it, that's not too bad then," Mirage granted. "Not really their fault if she never told them otherwise."

"At least not on this world," Ezara flicked her chin up just before their radios chirped with an incoming message from the base.

::Autobots and Vistra, please follow the main road in and keep your altitude below twenty meters,:: the female voice instructed them.

"Not a problem for us," Mirage chuckled. "Just as well we _not_ tell them that I could've come in without them knowing if I'd wanted to."

"Mine may not be your level of perfect, but if I can sneak past a 'Con, I can sneak past them," Ezara laughed as they transformed, and she chose her hovercar mode before proceeding towards the base again. "And if Jazz can't, he needs his circuits checked."

"Don't let'm bug ya," Jazz laughed. "'E likes t'show off."

"When you've got a talent, you don't want to let it go to waste," Mirage chuckled, following behind them as they made short work of the remaining distance.

"True," Ezara chuckled. "Pity you do."

Her playful, half-secretive tone put Jazz on instant alert, and he dearly hoped his operative had enough sense not to take the bait.

"And how would you know if I wasn't?" Mirage taunted right back, not taking it to a challenge yet.

"I guess you weren't really trying the times I spotted you then," she gave in easily, making a small jump from the ground and transformed directly to her aerial form, somehow maintaining her altitude despite the low speed and began a lazy series of slow spirals in front of them, occasionally falling back to fly directly over them. "I suppose you wouldn't bother with your full efforts around the Ark. Autobots wouldn't be looking, after all."

"Not most of the time," he granted, wondering just _when_ she had spotted him, and why she hadn't blown his cover. He had watched some things he was sure she wouldn't like known. "Anything I should keep an eye out for while we're here?" He asked both of them.

"Energy signals you can't ID as human," Ezara offered up first. "See if you can talk, or sneak, your way into a tour of the facility. There could be others down there. I didn't really look around last time. It was always intended as a hit and run mission."

Without any warning, she slowed, hovering directly over them and dropped even lower. Jazz could feel her energy field they were so close to touching. He caught sight of the tiny package she dropped in Mirage's open cockpit and knew that even if someone was watching them, there was no way to see without being under her as well.

The low clicking sequence of three short, even notes startled Mirage before Jazz repeated them. He wasn't entirely sure what she'd dropped, or why in the pits she'd chose to use _his_ code-click for 'silent, ignore' but he got the point and he'd get the full story later. Even when he couldn't work her out in real time yet, she was open enough in the berth that he always got the details and intent.

She was back in her original position relative to them less than a spark-beat later. Odds were very high anyone who watched would take it as the normal flight variation she'd made a point of displaying earlier.

Someone had taught her to be observant and sneaky, and they did it well for how little training she had. While the thought flitted across his processors, he dismissed the idea that she could be _so_ well trained that the entire multiple-mind persona and memories were faked. It was too intricate, too complicated, too unstable, and most of all, too improbable.

Before much longer they arrived at the fence surrounding the facility, but not until passing heavy artillery batteries and anti-personnel positions that would make it uncomfortable for anyone to get in uninvited.

::Just a little paranoid about this one, aren't they?:: Mirage commented on a private channel.

::Just'a little,:: Jazz agreed, most of his attention on Ezara and the tension evident in her frame and the uneven oscillating of her flight path while remaining under twenty-five meters and over the roadway.

She was nervous. He couldn't blame her either. This would be the first time she'd faced humans that she'd attacked while with the Decepticons.

The guards took one look at them, noted the insignia, and stared a much longer than needed at Ezara's hovering airframe, before one nodded to the other and the gate slowly slid open with much protesting from sand-filled and ill-used rollers.

"You are requested on the airfield next to hanger three," the guard who nodded told them. "Do not leave the roadways."

"Wonder if they expect her to stay over the grounds during the test," Mirage mused. "Would make sense, but might be hard."

"If they asked for _me_, I doubt it," Ezara chuckled, though there was an uneasy tone to it. "Speed is what I'm best at."

"By human standards, they could be testing anything against ya standards," Jazz chuckled, trying to take her mind off the fact that much of the still-visible damage was likely the result of her actions. The humans had cleaned up well, but two local months was not nearly enough to repair the damage of a full Decepticon attack.

They followed the road in, using a combination of maps they had and the sighs to reach the requested location.

"Raven!" Ezara's voice went up at least two octaves in a squeal of delight as she spotted the human dressed as a fighter pilot standing next to a four-star General and several other VIPs.

"Welcome to The Box," the pilot grinned up at her as she transformed to base to land.

Mirage and Jazz transformed as well, inclining their heads politely once they'd come to full stops.

"Honored ta be invited," Jazz said respectfully, keeping an eye on Ezara's animated interactions with the pilot, who was now standing on her hands so they were on topic level. "I know you don't like many visitors."

"For this, it was agreed it would be worth it," General Herres saluted them in return for their acknowledgement. "Your Optimus Prime insisted he would not send her alone. Come. I believe you will understand why we wanted her attendance when you see Shockwave."

"Not the Decepticon," Ezara spoke up before Jazz or Mirage could do more than look shocked. "It's what they named the new jet."

"Though if you _did_ have him, I'd understan'at too," Jazz murmured, shaking his head as they moved to follow the General. "Bad news all around."

"Umm, yes. The designation was made before we were aware either side existed," General Herres added hastily before showing them into a large hanger and it's singular occupant.

"Yes, I see why you would want Ezara," Mirage murmured as the three of them took in a human-built aircraft that bore a distinct, if primitive, resemblance to Ezara's jet form.

"I can see it," Ezara spoke almost to herself as she set Major Carter down and approached the one-of-a-kind experimental craft with her sensors fully open and analytical, tactical and combat processors going at full speed. She ran her fingers along the frame, causing several humans to wince before they realized that her touch was light enough not to damage their precious creation. "Ya built it base'n the ship 'at escaped."

That caused a real stir among the humans.

"How do you know..." General Herres narrowed his eyes.

Ezara shifted to look at him, her expression bland. "Who do'ya think turned her on and cut'r loose?"

Absently, Jazz puzzled over if her speech patterns matched a mindset. She typically talked like Prime, without an accent or local lingo and just a touch formal, but sometimes, like now, she mimicked him, right down to the occasional local colloquialisms. Sometimes she'd even sound like Perceptor, once he caught her doing Soundwave's monotone and singular dialect - that had been a decidedly creepy conversation, even by special ops standards, and she'd done Megatron or Starscream more than once when she got riled up in battle.

Like her mood, she didn't seem to register the shift as anything to care about, or even remember, but he had to wonder if it meant anything. He'd chalk it up to her picking up mannerisms from her partners, but that didn't explain Perceptor one bit. He knew, without any doubt, that the pair barely _talked_, much less anything more. She just wasn't the scientist's style, and he wasn't hers.

If it did and he could match vocal pattern to mood, it could be an effective warning for several of the more dangerous ones.

"What you didn't realize was that she was another mechanical lifeform," Jazz offered, trying to break the tension between the two leaders with very different agendas and priorities. "When she found her during the attack, she released her. I'm sure you weren't aware at the time that the ship was sentient."

The startled expression on the General's face and body was enough for Jazz to believe that at least _he_ was ignorant of the fact and had processed the full implications of it given the company in a nanoklik.

"The reports did not indicate a technology anything like yours," he began to apologize.

"She's not like mine either, but she was people-smart, like you, and just wanted to go home once she realized she could move," Ezara added.

"That's why she cut'r loose when the time came," Jazz nodded. "I'm guessin' she wasn't active when y'picked her up."

"No, it wasn't even flight-worthy," General Herres acknowledged. "It was here more than twenty years and never even powered up. How did she power it up?" he asked Jazz after a glance at Ezara informed him she was focused on the prototype and its pilot. "Why didn't it stay with her?"

"Honestly, I've got no idea - she wasn't with us at the time, and she hasn't explained," Jazz chuckled slightly. "It prolly wanted to go home."

The General nodded, accepting the explanation as he realized that despite the damage done, he was lucky she'd changed sides so quickly.

"I've never seen you take off or land," Major Carter was saying as he climbed into the prototype.

"Because I don't," Ezara shook her head, then looked at him, and gave an actual, full body sigh that mimicked the human action flawlessly. "All right, all right, today I'll play a jet for the full test."

"Join us in the control tower to watch," General Herres suggested to Jazz and Mirage as he and several other high-ranking officers moved to leave the engineers and scientists to their work. "It will have the best view, and we can listen to the full test."

"Thank you," Jazz inclined his head and followed the Air Force brass outside and towards the short control tower. ::Ezara, keep'r radio goin' at all times. Full data stream.::

::Acknowledged,:: she responded without hesitation.

Her tone was more than vaguely reminiscent of Prowl's all-business manner as she continued to talk and transmit to him without talking to him. ::I'm beginin' to wonder if even I'c'n understand her,:: he chuckled privately to Mirage.

They both heard the sound of her transformation before her engines powered up, then the prototype's.

::You owe me for this,:: Ezara groused at Major Carter as they taxied to the runway. ::I do _not_ like to taxi.::

::Relax, you're beautiful this close,:: he told her. ::Too close to get in the air. Go up first, I want to see that tail of yours shake.::

::Flatterer,:: Ezara almost cooed with her playful laugh and powered up her engines as the two Autobots and other VIPs arrived at the top of the control tower.

::Are they ... _flirting_?:: Mirage gave Jazz a weirded out look. ::Is there _anything_ she won't hit on?::

::I'm guessin' not much,:: Jazz chuckled on the private line. He knew she could monitor it if she wanted to, but she wasn't yet. ::Doubt she's met'a male she dinna like.::

They both paused, watching the unusual sight of a flying transformer of any kind taking off in vehicle mode. The humans gasped outright when she barely took five body lengths to get her nose up, and almost instantly went vertical.

"That is incredible," one of the humans breathed in awed shock, his eyes wide as she continued the loop, coming around to hover next to the prototype.

::All systems checks are a go,:: Major Carter radioed the control tower. ::Turning controls over to Ezara for linkup check.::

"For what?" one of the ranking humans demanded as the prototype ran through it's physical controls again.

::Sir, this is why she's so valuable. She can control the jet remotely if needed. It's the only reason my squad made it out of a couple bad scrapes,:: Major Carter attempted to explain. ::Was that the engines firing separately?:: he asked.

::Of course,:: Ezara's reply was smooth. ::Just because you can't doesn't mean I can't. It's a big help in tight turns.::

"Does she have _any_ respect for procedure?" General Herres asked as she finished her checks and turned control over to Major Carter.

"No more than sh' hasta," Jazz acknowledged, watching her with a critical eye. Whether she was flirting with the jet or the human, it bore careful watching until he could determine if it was a good or bad thing. "Sha's a leader."

The General only nodded and watched as the prototype took off, Ezara to the side and only slightly behind. It wasn't a safe distance by human standards, but Jazz knew she was well within her own capabilities.

::The sky is yours,:: Major Carter radioed.

Without hesitation Ezara sped up and took position directly in front of him and began to work through a series of twists, turns, banks, accelerations and decelerations designed to test the new jet's capabilities.

"All systems are performing within spec, Sir," a low-ranking human at one of the stations reported, excitement in her voice.

::Continuing test at 75%,:: Major Carter informed the control tower as he followed Ezara through the sequence again.

They all watched as the sequence repeated at 100%.

::Jazz, that _thing_ is crawling down the inside of my leg,:: Mirage did his best not to visibly react.

::Damaging?:: Jazz glanced at him.

::No, just ... very creepy.:: he admitted, using all his will not to look down when he felt it in his foot, and it began to ooze out.

::Tower, permission to proceed in ten percent increments while she continues to behave,:: Major Carter asked.

The lead controller glanced at the General, who nodded faintly.

::Permission granted, Shockwave.:: she relayed.

::Sky's yours,:: Ezara's voice came from the speakers. Every human in the room gasped as she flipped her nose up, going completely vertical before cutting her engines. The prototype shot forward under her, and she settled in behind it with a natural elegance as her engines flared to life again.

"That was amazing," someone murmured to general agreement.

::Beginning test sequence at 100%,:: Major Carter told them.

::You know what she's doing, don't you?:: Mirage asked Jazz privately, catching the quickly concealed reaction.

::Prime's seen this in'er inherited memories,:: Jazz said. ::Doubt _she_ knows it yet.::

::So what's she doing?:: Mirage prodded.

::Courtin'im,:: he answered simply, still a trace of shock in his voice. "General, is follow the leader common for pilots?" he asked in his trademark jovial manner.

"No," he shook his head. "I thought it was your idea."

"It's hers," Jazz said easily. "He does'it naturally."

"He's a very good pilot," General Herres nodded as the room fell silent again, broken only by the constant data streams coming from both vehicle and Tezita. "How did you convince her to switch sides?"

"They did the convincin' for us," Jazz chuckled, his manner relaxed. "One ov'm tried to blow'er up."

"That is ... remarkably short-sighted," General Herres said quietly as Major Carter announced they were proceeding to 110% spec.

"To our advantage," Jazz nodded, listening to the test as both the verbal and data transmissions registered for him. He had to admit it was an amazing craft, for a human-built one. It might even be enough, with a good pilot, to stand up to a Seeker one-on-one.

120%

This pilot was definitely good, but he wasn't the best.

130%

What was it about him that had Ezara so fascinated? Even if she didn't understand the courting she was doing, something about this _human_ had triggered the behavior.

140%

He'd have to see if she ever played this game with Skywarp. They were lovers, she was attached to him, but this follow the leader thing went against everything a combat flier wanted to do. It was an act of intense trust to allow another to be on your tail like this.

150%

And the language they used ... giving rank to the one in the lead, openly and unquestioningly stating that the other owned the sky and would not be challenged. Even though he didn't understand completely, he did know flier culture well enough to know it meant far more than the humans gave it credit for, at least coming from a strong, dominant warrior personality like hers.

::Skies are mine!:: Ezara's sharp voice suddenly cut through his musing with the faint trace of concern, if not real fear, in it. He knew the humans didn't catch her reaction, but her actions caused enough of a stir as she powered up and shot forward to take the lead. ::Drop to cruising speed.::

Her air brakes flashed, more as a visual reinforcement of her order than any need she had of them.

::Decreasing speed to 280mph,:: he responded, the prototype dropping it's speed and leveling out in flight quickly. ::What did you pick up?::

"We have nothing, sir," an operator answered the yet-to-be-asked question among the VIPs. "Everything is within spec."

::The main fuel line is leaking,:: Ezara answered as they made a relatively slow circle to come in for a landing. ::You need to land for repairs before you loose power or catch fire.::

"General, permission to call in our medic, if things go poorly," Jazz asked quietly, only the minimum amount of question in his voice to be polite.

"Granted," he nodded, recognizing the tone and intent.

::Ratchet, head to Groom Lake,:: Jazz called into headquarters. ::We may have a situation here.::

::On my way,:: the grumpy CMO acknowledged. ::Keep me updated.::

::Rodger,:: Jazz replied.

"Why slow down if they need to land quickly?" someone asked.

::Because speed pushes more fuel through the line, making the leak, and risk of explosion or fire, greater. I can't cut all flow through the line at that location or the engines will fail,:: Ezara explained, her tone heavily reminiscent of Prowl's no-nonsense one. Her position relative to the prototype shifted again as she maneuvered to fly directly above it.

"What is she doing now?" someone asked.

"Protectin' him," Jazz responded. "Shieldin'm from attack. She'll get'im down safe if anyone can," he said, trying to be reassuring as they came in.

"Attack from what?" General Herres gave the Autobot a sharp look.

"Nothin'," Jazz shook his head. "It's a gesture, noth'n more."

::Raven, let go and relax,:: Ezara's voice came over the speakers, only this time the tension and fear in it was audible to everyone.

::Done,:: he responded. He grunted as Shockwave went from two-eighty to zero in less than a heartbeat, her engines powered down and systems shutting down.

From their vantage, Prowl and Jazz could see that she'd extended cables from her body mass and locked onto the slightly smaller craft, bringing it to a halt before they both rushed out of the control tower and towards the hanger where she was setting the prototype down. The connections detached and were drawn into her body even as she transformed and landed with a hurried thump next to the cockpit.

"It _probably_ won't explode," she called out to Jazz and the human rescue workers scrambling to her location.

Despite her words, there was no missing that she wasn't chancing anything with the human as she snatched him from the cockpit as soon as he unlocked his harness. Her near-rush out of the potential damage zone of an explosion and the way she carefully cupped the pilot in her hands and kept her body between him and the jet spoke more of her feelings towards him than any words her for Jazz.

"Get the emergency crews out there to cool her down," the General ordered. "It looks like we've managed to avoid the disaster this time," he said, clearly relieved.

"Yes," Jazz nodded, more interested in the fact that Ezara was still carefully holding the human pilot inside a protective shell of her hands even though she'd come to a stop next to him. "Thanks to Ezara."

The General nodded and looked up at her. "Thank you. How did you know what our sensors did not?"

"The system synch and link I performed at the beginning gave me the same amount of information on the Shockwave's systems as I get from my own," she explained briefly. "I knew what happened because I would have that information on myself."

"Amazing," one of the engineers murmured.

"I hope you're willing to help us with future testing," General Herres inclined his head to her.

"Of course," she gave him a faint smile and inclined her head in return.

::Ratchet, it looks like things are under control here,:: Jazz radioed the CMO.

::You pulled me out of the Ark for _nothing_?":: came the expected growl of annoyance.

::Better than ta have ya an hour or more away when you're needed,:: Jazz replied in a way he knew would end the grumbling.

The rap of a human hand hitting metal fairly hard drew their attention to her still-enclosing hands.

Though her startled near-jump only lasted a fraction of a nanoklik, Jazz took note of it.

"You can put me down now," Major Carter's voice was loud and strong. "I'm fine and Shockwave's not going to blow."

"Yes, yes, my apologies," Ezara murmured and knelt to set him on the ground with more care than she showed almost anything.

"Can you tell us what the leak rate was?" One of the techs asked her, checking the telemetry from the jet that still _seemed_ fine. "If it was actually at a dangerous level, we'll need to tighten down the specs or improve the monitors."

"It'll all in the data packet I'll have Teletraan-1 send you," she promised. "I'd give it to you how but you don't have anything I can download to."

"Tha'sa polite way 'o sayin' she dosna wanna do the conversion in her processor," Jazz told the tech quietly and was relieved when the human nodded and didn't press her.

"Given what's happened, obviously we can't continue the test right now," Mirage offered. "Maybe we should be on our way back to the Ark, let you work on repairs and tracking down the issue?"

"Yes," the General nodded. "Thank you for coming, and your help. We'll contact you when she's ready for another test."

"Sounds good to me," Ezara flicked her chin to the right before giving Major Carter a winning smile.

The Autobots made their farewells and all three headed out, Ezara in her hovercar mode and making a point of not outpacing the two cars that followed behind her.

"What was that think you dropped into my cockpit," Mirage asked when they were well outside the military base that encompassed the Groom Lake facility.

"A spider," Ezara answered easily. "A spy-bot. It'll tell me if there's anything else in that facility that they shouldn't have."

"How many of those do you have?" Jazz asked, scowling to himself as he tried to remember where that idea had come from.

"However many I can keep track up," she answered. "Maybe a dozen without interfering with combat."

There was silence for a moment.

"Is there one on the Nemesis?" Mirage asked.

"Of course. Skywarp took it back the last time we meet up, though he doesn't know it," Ezara had a touch of amusement in her tone. "I would have left one when I was there, but I didn't remember how to form it yet."

"Just how much Intel training do you have?" Jazz prompted a question he had a fairly good idea of the answer to.

"Some," she said almost hesitantly. "I'm not trained as one, but you can't spent as much time as I did at the center of Lyzen's attentions and not pick up a few tricks along the way."

"Your second in command is Intel?" Jazz almost sounded surprised. He knew Lyzen held a position of great fear, great respect and great affection in Ezara's mind.

There was a pause, too long a one in Jazz's opinion.

"Yes," Ezara finally answered. "She's much like you, though not quite so cheerful. Lydrom would fall apart without a strong..."

"Aid-de-camp," Mirage supplied.

"What's the untranslated sounds?" Jazz prompted.

"Si'Mir," she answered. "Si'Mir Emirc Lyzen Kikn'nah. Aid-de-camp Commandant Lyzen Coldwind," she gave the translation as well.

"What are the other names that have, or haven't been translated?" Jazz prompted, hoping to keep her processors from drifting too far into the past.

"My combat instructor is Emirc Corsa Da'rei. Commandant Corsa Bloodsaber. Vi'Sushri Olasia Ti'Keen is Master Engineer Olasia Gives Power. Cota Tonen is my Aunu'e'tuk, my Keeper of Dates."

"Secretary?" Mirage asked.

There was another long pause.

"No," she said eventually. "He is far more than that, more valuable ... though I suppose the function may be similar," she keep working it over in her processors. "The upper ranks of Tezita society don't have much in common with Cybertron or Earth."

"Examples?" Jazz prompted, always eager for more on her homeworld and how to interact with it.

"Well, Lyzen is Intel, she makes it her business to know everything about everybody and have agents in all sectors, but much of her time is spent with newborns and planning matings. I lead and discipline the military, I will train them when I'm older, but she is mother to them. Everyone is a lot more afraid of angering her than me, for all I'm the short-tempered one who doesn't have to explain my actions."

"Ya know why?" Jazz asked, fascinated by a better look at her command structure, even if just from her POV.

"Same reason anybody with a clue is more afraid of you than Prime," she chuckled, starling both Autobots. "Oh come on. You know full well anybody who crosses the line with you is going to 'disappear', but you cross Prime and the worst you'll get is the brig."

"How do you know that?" Jazz asked cautiously, carefully going over the logs of everything she'd accessed in his memory and processors.

"It's what you _are_, Jazz," she said gently. "You'll go to the same lengths to protect what's yours, to do what needs to be done, as I will to survive. I don't know what you've done," she tried to reassure him. "I just know you've got the same Spark as Lyzen, and I know a little too much about what she does, even if I'm not supposed to."

"Do not talk like that about me, or my mechs, to anyone," he finally said, enunciating every word. His tone was calm and even, for all it carried the warning he intended it to. He felt it in her energy field the moment she processed it, and knew he'd gotten the point across in a way she'd respect.

"I won't lie to Lyzen," she made an effort to comply, to agree, without giving him any false beliefs as to the limits.

Jazz rolled that over in his processors for a moment, allowing her be nervous and musing on the fact that there was a situation in which she was absolutely, unquestioningly terrified of him. He couldn't think of the last time anyone saw him that way, at least not anyone who liked him.

"I'm na askin' ya ta lie ta anybody," he finally told her, his tone becoming more friendly. "Jus' don't bring th' idea up ta folks."

"Okay, understood," she agreed quickly as she tried to settle back down. "She'd know you at a glance anyway."

"So ... you really like that human," Jazz opened what he suspected would be an awkward conversation, though less awkward than the one they'd just had.

"Hu? Umm, yeah, I guess. He knows how to play," she said with just a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

"That why y'turned the test into th'courtship flight?" He asked her. "Or was't in y'head?"

Her reaction spoke more than any words could. Her nose tipped down, catching the dirt and flipping her over twice before she caught herself and transformed to jet mode to get some altitude.

"I did _what_?" her voice was nearly a screech of shock.

::I'm going with no clue on that one,:: Mirage couldn't help but chuckle.

::You ain't been in 'r head enough to know it,:: Jazz responded, before transmitting a segment of what he'd seen to Ezara. "I seem to remember that was significant - if it was just follow the leader, sorry for misinterpreting."

Her wings wavered for a bit, then settled as she mulled it over.

"There are orns I really hate having so many others' instincts in my head," she muttered darkly. "Please tell me the humans have no clue what it means."

"Not a clue," he promised. "Just thought it was part of th'test - it _is_ a Hell of a test for an Earth-jet," he observed as they approached the Ark.

"Still, thanks for ... whatever that was. I'll dig up Stormfire's memories on it before I go out again," she said as she dropped down and transformed to hovercar mode for the last of the approach. "The last thing I need is for my own people to see that behavior towards a human."

"Just be careful you don't dig up Stormfire _herself_," Jazz said seriously. "Don't want to have to deal with him _and_ Megatron."

"I have no intention of it," she shuddered as they drove through the entrance. "I'm pretty sure Singer'd knock me out before she let'm out. Blaster's in the showers," she commented absently. "I'm headed to my quarters."

"Want us to meet you there?" Jazz offered, his tone less serious with the reassurance.

"If you want," she sounded less than sure. "I'm not so sure how playful I'll be."

"You know, she's taking you and Blaster awfully well," Mirage commented when she'd turned off their path.

"Hay, sha knew th' way before we started," Jazz told him. "Sh'had nothin' ta be surprised about."


	14. Where Insanity Ends

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Skywarp/Ezara  
_Rating_: PG  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary_: Hotspike and Coldspike may well be the two most demented minds and Sparks that Cybertron has ever produced, but they will be remembered as the key to breaking the hold the Forge has over the Decepticons.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 13: Where Insanity Ends**

* * *

"Ready?" Wheeljack looked at Ezara when she entered a specially-secured part of his workshop where Hotspike and Coldspike were in stasis.

"As I'll ever be," she nodded and offlined her optics. Her form shimmered, shifted and began to separate into two halves.

"Fascinating," Perceptor murmured, his full attention on the most minute details of how she formed two fully complete and functional bodies out of it. Each one was two-thirds her original height, but only half her mass.

"I am Singer," the one on the right introduced herself as her form shifted more, taking on an almost crystalline appearance.

"I am Mitrix," the other inclined her head slightly. "Shall we begin?"

"No time like the present," Wheeljack agreed. "Our subjects aren't ideal, but they're a good place to start."

"Agreed. They are convenient and no loss if this fails catastrophically," Mitrix said as she watched Coldspike moved from stasis holding to the scanning platform.

"You just want to get to the dissection part," Singer said in mock disapproval.

"They _are_ the first Cybertronians I will have the opportunity to study on that level," Mitrix responded. "The Spark chamber concept used is so very different, even from civilians of my era."

"I have to agree with Perceptor that there does seem to be a relation," Singer countered, her tone one of musing and mulling it over. "The specs on Delta Six's progenitors are similar to what Ezara saw in the oldest of Prime's memories."

"It may simply be a matter of parallel evolution," Perceptor suggested. "The basics were likely very similar. We have clearly diverged since then, which would be suggested by refinements of the system."

"Possible," Mitrix agreed as the scanning began. Despite her optics being firmly locked on the readouts, she was still talking. "There are also very significant differences in the early designs."

"It is also difficult to discount how well-recorded our origins are," Singer picked up, her focus also on the readouts. "Would it be ... accurate to say this one was not mentally stable before the Forge?"

"It's unlikely that either of them was, based on the rumor - Cybertron's very own native serial killers, but we don't have proof," Perceptor answered.

"According to Jazz, we have more than enough now," Wheeljack spoke up, watching the various scanners and processor patterns as they were displayed. "The Forge only refined it, but they were sadistic sociopaths long before the war began."

"Do I want to know how he came by this info?" Ratchet glanced at Wheeljack.

"No," Singer and Mitrix answered in unison before he could.

"Jazz is Intel. You _never_ want to know how Intel learn what they know," Mitrix continued. "Just take him at his word and move on."

"Very true," Singer flicked her chin up.

"Perhaps we should keep one of them alive until Lyzen arrives," Mitrix suggested thoughtfully. "Jazz is good, but he is not a Si'Mir."

"Determine it after we see how well this works," Singer countered. "Optimus Prime has already accepted that we will likely kill them both."

"If this does not, I will," Mitrix flicked her chin up in agreement.

"It might not be necessary," Wheeljack scowled at the analysis. "This isn't good ... it's tied into their autonomous functions, the circuits that regulate power management ... everything they _can't_ do without."

"Anything that was done can be redone," Mitrix said firmly. "It may require a raid to claim the original Forge."

"She will not be pleased with that," Singer said through tight lips. "A full metacycle."

"He has survived this long," Mitrix pointed out.

"Not with two Tezita on the field," Singer countered. "Caurun may be a civilian, but he does fight well. A ... Reservist, I believe was the term."

"Reservist or Home Guard, depending on the context," Mitrix flicked her chin up. "My point stands. He has survived at least ten thousand, two hundred and eighty-three vorn of active warfare on the front line with many vorn before that in death-match arenas. He is likely to survive another metacycle given she is not trying to kill him."

"Unlike Starscream," Singer said quietly and cocked her head to the side to stare at the readings. "Did you ever finish your study on reprogramming the criminally insane?" she glanced over at Mitrix.

"Effectively," Mitrix said with a displeased tone. "The body remained viable. The Spark was not. This level of reprogramming is no different than the death penalty. Even for those who require much less editing, the survival rate was too low to justify the expense."

"Okay ... quick overview of the major parts required to have a viable Spark survive," Singer looked at Ratchet.

"The Spark chamber, primary brain," he began.

"Is the brain actually needed for the _Spark_ to survive?" she interrupted him.

"She won't be much happier with that idea," Mitrix pointed out.

"It's a start," Singer countered. "What is required for a _Spark_ to survive?"

"Happier with what?" Wheeljack interrupted.

"A Spark ... transplant may be the best description," Singer said. "His core personality, desires, innate abilities and traits will remain intact. The rest is wiped clean. It is very much like being born."

"It is ... possible," Mitrix murmured, mostly to herself. "I have done it successfully. Once transplanted to a new body, I would be able to scrub all defective code from the old one and upload the majority of his memories. The real question here is if a Cybertronian Spark can take in a Tezitan body."

Singer turned to their subject and began to sing, a low, soft melody without words over Coldspike's chest. It didn't take long for it to open and bring his Spark chamber to the surface for her. Without a touch, she continued to sing, causing the deep red Spark to fluctuate, flicker, and alter color several times.

"What is she doing?" Ratchet asked tensely.

"Jumping ahead," Mitrix scowled. "Put it back, Singer. You can play with it later. I need them _both_ intact for now."

"You and your slow methods," Singer groused even as she complied, allowing Coldspike's Spark to sing back into his chest as a deep red glow.

"There is a _reason_ I head this project and that is it," Mitrix rumbled, though her words and tone were formal. "Results are less important than knowledge right now. These two are beyond fixing, even for us."

"You should have a little more faith, sister," Singer smiled at her as a soft harmonic filled the room and made everyone relax. "You may lead, but I am here because I think differently."

"The Artist and The Engineer," Mitrix rolled her optics. "It is a wonder that we get anything done. Put Hotspike on the scanner," she huffed, though her anger had bled away. "Back to what a Cybertronian Spark needs to survive," she turned to Ratchet as Singer and Wheeljack put Coldspike back in stasis storage and brought Hotspike out.

"The brain _is_ necessary, at least typically," Ratchet explained. "We've actually been able to keep some of the badly wounded alive with only the brain, but it's a race against time at that point. You have to keep it covered with energon, and you have to get a new body built _fast_, before the Spark gives out. Not an ideal situation, but a viable last-resort."

"Unfortunately it's the brain we're trying to rewire," Mitrix murmured, her gaze solidly on the readouts and the comparison of the two scans. She almost instinctively picked out what was in common, what was natural variation and what was likely to be Forge-coding. "So you don't have a history of a strong Spark when the brain has been off-lined?"

"It is hypothetically possible," Ratchet granted, "but you'd need a Spark that was so firmly bound to something that it simply refused to die. A ghost, in human terms. It would likely take a level of anger or dedication that we're unlikely to find in a Decepticon, at least to anything we're not trying to take out of them."

"There is the Matrix," Wheeljack offered.

"Granted," Ratchet nodded. "But it's not quite the same thing. I suspect that if we analyzed it, we'd find the Matrix _was_ a type of brain, or at least served a similar purpose."

"Will you finish, please?" Singer fidgeted, every word spoken making her more and more impatient.

"It will not be until Ezara returns from her next run to Cybertron," Mitrix said firmly, earning a deadly glare from Singer and a spat of a barely-recognizable ancient Tezitan language.

Mitrix replied in the same, her tone level. Two more exchanges and Mitrix was on her feet, the distance between her and her companion closed in a blink. She punched her hand into Singer's body and withdrew it just as quickly with something in her first.

"Calmer?" she asked evenly.

Singer just stared at her blankly for a long moment.

"Impatient creature," Singer muttered, glaring at Mitrix's closed hand.

"Strong creature," Mitrix said simply and pressed whatever was in her hand into her main body before returning to her readouts like nothing had happened. "Then it would be accurate to say that to your knowledge the Spark cannot survive long without the brain, and the brain will not survive long without the Spark?"

"Yes... and what just happened?" Ratchet asked, clearly startled by the sudden exchange.

"Ezara's impatience affected Singer," Mitrix explained, her focus on her readings. "It is effectively hard-wired into us that the living Toe'Emirc is in charge. While she did consent to this, it does not mean she is pleased with my process. I can listen to her mental pacing and be unaffected."

"I have always been more ... impulsive," Singer continued. "Her desire to proceed worked on me because I wasn't expecting it to be so strong."

"In her own way, she is an exceptional manipulator," Mitrix murmured, her body straitening as she tracked changes between the twins and noted the patterns. "It just not the way Jazz is."

Singer chuckled. "He does it consciously. He and Lyzen will either be best friends, or try to kill each other within a decaorn."

"I vote for the first, though I am not sure which prospect is worse," Mitrix commented absently. "Those two trying to one-up each other has ... disturbing implications."

"At least it won't be directed at us," Singer gave a relieved smile.

"Not directly, no," Mitrix agreed.

"You know... I've never seen this before," Wheeljack observed, turning back to the two Decepticons' scans. "They've tied the power feeds and circuitry from the Spark Chamber and brain through the weapons systems, transformation matrices ... every war system they have has a two-way tie to central-processing. Ratchet, Perceptor, take a look at this, will you?" He said, indicating the readouts. "Any idea why they might have set this up? It's more than just power management."

"Better reactivity with weapons-status and maintenance?" Ratchet suggested, looking it over. "Mitrix, Singer, any thoughts?"

They both paused, delving deep inside what Ezara knew of Skywarp, before Mitrix flicked her chin up.

"Considering what the Decepticons are, it makes complete scene," Mitrix said. "They are designed, dedicated, focused on combat. Anything that would improve combat reactions and capabilities would be foremost in design considerations. It is what I would do if trying to design a perfect combat civvie."

"That is _so_ wrong," Singer made an unhappy face.

"I know," Mitrix acknowledged. "It is as close to a Cybertron design as I have worked with."

"The problem is, that's _not_ how we typically function," Wheeljack frowned. "It might work, but it'd up the feedback from a hit to the weapons horribly. If you misfired you could end up blowing yourself up, in theory."

"However, it _would_ back up what Skywarp apparently said about combat being everything to the Decepticons," Perceptor observed. "Would it be safe to remove one of the circuits, so I can analyze it more carefully?"

"It seems likely from your battle records that there are safeguards in the system," Mitrix commented. "Many Decepticons have had their weapons damaged in battle and continued to fight without noticeably damaging themselves."

"I wouldn't recommend it, but if we remove..." Ratchet trailed off as he started to work, excising one of the circuits. "Can't take out a primary weapon circuit, but this is a secondary line - it won't cut his power off."

"That's the _other_ reason we don't function that way," Wheeljack agreed, watching as Perceptor transformed and accepted the embedded circuit from Ratchet, beginning to analyze it carefully.

"Increased degradation along the return circuitry ... Hook up a power analysis to the intact circuitry," Perceptor said, changing back, taking the circuit and returning it to its place to be re-mounted later. "In particular, analyze the frequency of the power on the return circuit over several activations of the attached system."

Mitrix's hands flew across the scanner's controls while Singer ran the requested sequence.

"It seems likely that they know how to bypass the loop, at least long enough to upgrade or repair," Singer considered the entire Decepticon package again. "Otherwise the damage Megatron has taken several times should have been fatal."

"Standard bypass systems, just enhanced to react much faster than they usually have to," Ratchet mused, considering the results. "There's an increased variance in the frequency on the return."

"As I expected," Perceptor said grimly. "This explains quite a bit, including the apparent insanity that creeps up on them."

"_Almost_ makes me feel sorry for Shockwave," Ratchet agreed.

"But it explains almost everything about him," Perceptor sighed. "He was a perfectionist before, introduce something like this and it _would_ drive him completely insane, much more quickly than it would your typical Decepticon."

"I do not understand," Mitrix looked between the three of them. "Why would this cause slow insanity?"

"What power frequency do you operate on, and how regular is it?" Ratchet asked, looking between the two Tezita. "It could be another operating difference."

"We don't operate on a specific frequency," Singer told them. "It is a large part of what make our energy absorption technology function. We can take in, and use, anything our nanites are presented with. Have you studied this body since she became fully aware of her nature?"

"No," Ratchet shook his head.

"A Tezita military body only has one solid component, our Spark chamber," she explained evenly. "Everything else is self-replicating nanites. It may look, react and function as a solid piece of metal or components like you are accustomed to, but it's not. Civilian design is much more similar to yours, which is why they lack all but the most primitive of absorption technology."

"That explains quite a bit then," Perceptor nodded. "Our brains, Spark chambers, and everything else is hard-wired - which means that there are certain tolerances involved. Normally, we don't think about it, but we each operate within a certain frequency range without any problems. It's how we're built, we don't notice it. It'd be like a bio-lifeform being constantly aware of its pulse. However, outside of that range, it becomes more noticeable. Degradation of the circuitry is more common, because of the stress on the wires. More importantly, it means that you're trying to operate _slightly_ off from the rate your power is being provided. It's like a constant throb or hum when it's happening."

"I've had to deal with it a lot," Ratchet picked up. "It's usually a problem for mechs who work with electrical systems that aren't tuned with their own."

"But if a Decepticon is constantly inducing such a variation every time he fires his weapon, transforms, or otherwise activates these circuits, he would constantly be enduring the resulting irritation," Perceptor continued. "Compounded by gradual degradation of the circuitry running through his brain and Spark chamber."

"Every shot, every transformation, ends up creating a set of pulses that's impossible to ignore," Wheeljack frowned. "Which they're probably being told is part and parcel of being Decepticon. Injecting entropy into the core of their _beings_. This is going to be a slagging pain to fix."

"Agreed," Mitrix scowled, then considered the readings, the twins and the Autobots. "How much of your processing, your memories, and this mess, is actually in the brain?"

"The majority of processing and memories are stored there," Ratchet explained. "As for this mess, we'll need more time to trace all the circuits and how they connect, It might actually be possible to 'wean' them off of it, if we could disable all the affected systems, but we'd have to keep them out of battle and in stasis long enough that it wouldn't exactly be practical."

"Practical is a relative thing," Mitrix considered their subjects. "How long would you expect, and how difficult would it be to train another medic to perform the operations?"

"Not that difficult, but the _time_ is hard to tell. It's not going to answer any of our questions, or be useable against combat forces," Ratchet pointed out. "So... we need to find another way, for now," he concluded, clearly not happy with it.

The Tezita exchanged glances, expressions slightly confused.

"Keep the method in mind for Skywarp," Mitrix requested. "He is one worth taking time and care with."

"Agreed," Ratchet nodded. "It _might_ work, it's just not going to work in the timeframe that we're considering here. So - the next plan I can think of is to just try rewiring them. Try cutting the loops, working around it - disable the segments in as many places as possible and rewire them the way they _should_ be. Do we need anything more before we start that?" He asked, looking between the other researchers.

"I do not believe so," Mitrix flicked her chin left as the others agreed.


	15. A Long Ride Home

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Firestar/Inferno, Moonracer/Powerglide, Silver Shadow/Starjumper, Optimus Prime/Elita-1, Optimus Prime/Ezara, Skywarp/Ezara, Quickfire/Greystrike/Nightstrike/Ezara  
_Rating_: NC-17 for Mech/Femme and M/F  
_Codes_: Het, Slash, Femslash, M/M/M/F Orgy  
_Summary_: Ezara and Elita-1 get some time together on the way back to Cybertron, and Ezara tries a new method of capturing Decepticons.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 15: A Long Ride Home**

* * *

"How'r feeling?" Ezara asked out of nowhere as Caurun's ship flew through space towards Cybertron at speeds that still made every engineer and pilot that heard about it have a CPU crash.

"What do you mean?" Elita-1 lifted her head from the berth that would have been large even for Optimus Prime to look at the alien femme in the pilot's seat. Stacked energon cubes took up every square foot of available space on board.

"Leaving him again. For as long as you were apart, you didn't get much time together."

"I miss him," Elita-1 admitted. "But I'll be able to see him now, maybe even more than when we were both on Cybertron."

"Say what?" Ezara swiveled her chair around to stare at her.

"We lead very different units," Elita-1 said easily. "His is a large front-line force, mine's always been a small special ops one. We made time when we could, but it could be cyracycles in-between during bad times. I can't remember the last time we have two largely uninterrupted aincycles together to enjoy the time."

"Really?" Ezara cocked her head slightly, struggling to grasp how a relationship as strong as theirs could exist with so little contact.

"Yes," Elita-1 sighed softly. "I know we once did, but it's a time neither of us can recall easily."

Ezara paused, considering the statement. "When you were both dock workers with different names," she finally put it together with the hazy fragments Optimus still had relatively easy access to when she'd poked around his oldest memories. "Before the rebuild."

"Before we were Autobots," Elita-1 nodded, privately unsettled by just how much Ezara had gotten out of Optimus' memories in such a short amount of time. "It was a very different life, at the end of the Golden Age."

"Have you ever thought about what you'll do when the war is over, when Cybertron's rebuilt, and you're both still alive?" Ezara asked before glancing towards the controls briefly.

"No," she admitted. "It was never likely enough to think about after those first few vorn. The occasional fantasy, but nothing more."

"You might want to think about it," she offered quietly. "It won't be much longer."

"Just how quickly do you expect to end this?" Elita-1 focused her optics.

"With twelve-hundred of my best warriors arriving within a metacycle, I find it unlikely the Decepticons will have so much as a toehold on Cybertron or Earth a metacycle later," Ezara said with relaxed confidence.

Elita-1 nodded thoughtfully. On one hand, it was the kind of promise youthful arrogance would make. On the other, she'd seen what Ezara could do and twelve hundred of her caliber could easily wipe out both sides of the conflict in the first battle.

Could and would, if Ezara was any indication of the temperament and methods of her force.

Then there was that bit about what Moonracer had said she'd said, that her full military was ten _billion_ strong. By the time the second wave of warriors arrived, they would no longer be bound by her promise to Optimus. They could fight the war any way they wished.

Even if only a tenth of them came, they'd outnumber the entire Cybertronian race she knew of; Decepticon, Autobot and neutrals combined several times over.

It was numbing, and terrifying in a very real way, to try and comprehend what this undisciplined savage commanded, even if some of the others that shared Ezara's processors and memory banks were people Elita-1 would happily stand by as allies.

It was hard, remembering back so far, but she couldn't completely forget what Optimus Prime had been like when he'd first come on line. Those early vorn were so full of hope, but they were also brutal as they'd both had to learn fast about the realities of war and being a leader. So many good bots had been lost, some even before she'd learned their names.

It hadn't taken a vorn for both of them to realize her talent at espionage, and as reluctant as he'd been Optimus consented to her team, to missions she knew he would have done anything to keep her from going on. In the long vorn she'd been absent, supporting the war from the shadows, he'd changed too. He'd learned the wisdom of a battlefield commander and the ways of a soldier.

They both still loved each other deeply, the past two aincycles had proven that, but it had also proven without any doubt that when the war was over they would have to build their relationship from the beginning again. Everything they had known about the other was so out of date ... especially for him. The four mitracycles he'd been in stasis-lock from damage she'd lived through. He'd missed nearly half the war that she and Ultra Magnus had fought.

She was still deep in thought more than eighteen cycles later when her attention was drawn to the front of the small ship again and the view of Cybertron quickly filling the view screen.

"Wiggle up here," Ezara asked her. "Take the controls while I go shoot down our interception."

"Is that really necessary, with a ship this fast?" Elita-1 asked as she worked her way forward.

"Maybe not, but it's fun and I could stand stretching my wings after not moving for a decacycle," Ezara grinned at her as they made the awkward switch of places in the cramped space. "I'll meet you at the landing site."

"You know Optimus would not approve," Elita-1 couldn't help but smile slightly at her back as Ezara worked her way to the hatch.

"He doesn't approve of _anything_ that gets me shot at," Ezara laughed lightly. "But as long as it doesn't result in an energon bath, he doesn't yell."

Elita-1's smile quirked up a bit as Ezara jumped with a howling roar of raw excitement.

"Such a sparkling," she couldn't help but chuckle to herself. She watched through the view screen and scanners as Ezara transformed into her jet mode, something decidedly not of Earth or Cybertron, or Lydrom apparently, and made herself quite the target as she hit Shockwave's control tower with the sonic boom of going insanely fast.

While Elita-1 couldn't think of a descriptor of the tactic that didn't involve some variant of 'suicidally crazy', she also couldn't deny that the feisty youngster was more than capable of taking on the multiple highly experienced trines that were sent up to shoot her down. Granted, it was mostly because she was as technologically advanced to the Decepticons as the Decepticons were to the humans, but it was still something that took it from crazy down to a viable, if hazardous, tactic that worked.

By the time anyone could care that the ship was still descending, there was pretty much nothing willing to fly other than the Tezita.

"She is impressive," Chromia admitted as she greeted her leader at the ship's hatch and took her a few steps away so Blurr could do his thing.

"Impressive, deadly, hyperactive and far too young and immature for her duties," Elita-1 agreed, watching in renewed amazement as the speedster moved so fast he was just a blueish-white streak of light.

"No more immature than you and Optimus were at the beginning," Chromia reminded her lifelong friend. "Maturity comes with experience. That's just how it works."

"Even when you get a jump-start on the process," Elita-1 sighed.

"How'd it go, with Optimus?" Ultra Magnus asked as he stepped up to them.

"The three of us have an understanding," Elita-1 said almost formally. "No one is perfectly happy with it, but it will work for everyone, and Cybertron."

"Good to hear," he nodded, already sure of what that agreement amounted to - sharing Optimus - and content to let it remain vague as long as it did work.

"Taking the long way in," Ezara transmitted to Ultra Magnus on a tight, line of sight scrambled frequency. "See you soon."

"Understood," he replied the same way, watching as she played tag with a new trine of fliers and disappeared over the horizon.

"So - what's been happening while I was gone?" Elita-1 asked them, hoping to catch up on what she'd missed quickly.

"Very little," Chromia couldn't help but chuckle. "We've barely seen a bolt of Firestar, Moonracer, Inferno or Powerglide when orders and prodding weren't involved. Silver Shadow and Starjumper have been over the moons with the number of new 'playthings' to spy on," she shook her head in bemusement.

"Maybe you can explain it?" Ultra Magnus looked at Elita-1 with something resembling a pleading expression.

"They have an odd definition of foreplay," she did her best. "The one with more tidbits of than the other 'wins'. I never really cared to ask what the winner gets. It's a spy thing. Jazz would probably understand with a glance what they were up to. We're just used to them."

"I think I'm glad that they never hooked up with Jazz," Ultra Magnus chuckled lowly. "He's frightening enough when he's working with his own team."

"Who do you think trained most of us?" Chromia gave him a teasing look before Blurr appeared in the group.

"It'sallloadedupandreadtorollout, UltraMagnusSir."

"I will _never_ get used to that," Chromia laughed.

"Most likely not," Ultra Magnus agreed. "Transform and roll out!" he ordered, getting the convoy and it's guards moving.

* * *

Open skies like nothing she'd experienced before. Only a single trine were following her, but none of them were armed with a weapon that could do more than tickle as its energy was absorbed into her systems. It was as good as having the huge world all to herself.

"Damnit, Greystrike, what in the Pit does it take to get her attention!" one of the trine snarled in frustration.

"Nothing we're cleared to use here - herd her back towards anti-aircraft?" Greystrike suggested over an encrypted channel to Quickfire and Nightstrike.

"Or just land," the sultry female voice that entered the conversation made all three of them startle. "This is fun, but there are more fun things to do."

"Beats burning fuel," Greystrike offered his partners.

"Works for me," Quickfire agreed easily. "Haven't had a Seeker femme around in _ages_."

"Haven't had a _femme_ around in ages," Nightstrike pointed out as they followed their target to land in an unused, unoccupied sector that the war had done too much damage to to repair.

"So I keep hearing," she transformed to land ahead of them, intentionally mimicking a form close to that of a seeker femme that she'd pulled from Optimus Prime's memories. "Do you like?"

"Very much," Greystrike chuckled, landing behind her as he transformed into his own base form. "Not going to try anything, are you?" He asked, staying just out of easy sword-reach of her while his trine-mates kept to the air above them.

"If I wanted to kill or capture you, I could have done so easily without bothering with a ruse," she pointed out the absolute truth in a way she knew they'd understand.

"After what you've done to Starscream, can you blame us for being a little on edge?" Nightstrike pointed out as he transformed and landed.

Ezara chuckled and gave him a look that all but made his processors melt with the smoldering desire behind it. "I only gave back when I got from him," she rumbled at a frequency that made Skywarp's servos weak and noted that it worked on these seekers as well. "You haven't almost killed me."

Quickfire closed the distance between them and landed close enough they'd touch wings if they weren't careful. "And will you give back to us?" he rumbled and reached out to caress her wing with the tips of his fingers. He didn't touch the leading edge, but it still sent shivers down her frame. She knew exactly what that touch felt like for a Seeker.

"As good as you give," she promised with a low tone and leaned forward to claim a kiss, tasting as much as feeling the way he trembled at the contact. His youth and inexperience was as intoxicating as any energon.

"So - up for taking all three of us at once?" Greystrike asked her with a grin, his voice already low and lustful from watching the first simple touches between her and his youngest trine-mate.

"Oh, Primus," Quickfire trembled, loosing track of what he was doing and just stood there, stock still, as she brought both hands up to caress the leading edge of his wings in long, slow strokes and slid her glossa along his exposed neck. He trembled all the more when Nightstrike tipped his face to the side and added a searing kiss.

"Anytime, in any way," Ezara grinned back as he took the two steps to close the distance. "The real question is whether you three are enough for me," she cooed in challenge and reached out to slide her fingers along the leading edge of his wing, the most tactile-sensor rich location on a Seeker's frame.

"So what are your hot spots?" Greystrike asked as he closed in behind her to slide his hands along the back of her wings. He chuckled approvingly at the shiver his touch drew and repeated the motion on her right wing while Nightstrike began to fondle her left. Femmes may have been a long time ago, if ever, for them, but all three knew a Seeker's frame intimately well and used it to their advantage.

"Neck," she gasped out, and soon found Quickfire's mouth on her throat, licking, nipping, exploring for what made her tremble and whimper while Greystrike did the same along the graceful arch of the back of her neck. Three pairs of hands explored her frame, with at least one on each wing at all times.

How long had it been since she'd had this kind of attention? Three strong warriors all vying to pleasure her at once. She moaned unabashedly, giving as good as she got, except she had to divide her attention between three of them, and all three of them were focused on her.

"Tell me," Greystrike whispered silkily in her audio receptor. "I can feel you want _something_."

"Not physical," Ezara moaned, trembling at their efforts. The caress of a skilled glossa along the leading edge of her wing tipped her over the edge she was holding to with a sharp cry and rush of energy that cycled through her system with nowhere to go. In an instant she understood why this was something not to be indulged in lightly. It would be easy to suffer real damage with a lover that wasn't careful.

"Then what?" Greystrike cooed, audibly smug with the reaction they'd gotten.

"Inside," she trembled in their arms, took the kiss from Nightstrike for all he was worth and brushed her mind against each of theirs, inviting them into her mind for the rest of the game.

"I think we'll make it work," Nightstrike grinned, all three of them taking her invitation with a bit of surprise. It wasn't the way things usually worked, even when all sides were agreeable. No one ever _invited_ a Decepticon into their mind.

Passing the light security interlocks, they caught a data packet sent to each of them and began processing it. The massive amount of information on bio-forms made Greystrike and Nightstrike glance at each other, but Quickfire took to the challenge with glee and made the choice for all of them before his elders could even start the conversation.

The mind-scape solidified as open air around them and a mechanical city-world filled with robotic life under them. It could have been Cybertron in it's fabled Golden Age, though they all recognized that it wasn't. This was her world, the way it had been when she'd last seen it some seventy-two vorns ago. The way she expected it to be when she returned to it soon.

"Lydrom," Ezara's voice, that of a strong, fearless, dominant predator, echoed across their minds as they saw her rise up to greet them in Quickfire's form of choice; a shimmering green and blue serpentine dragon with two sets of wings.

Quickfire matched it, though his colors were his own red and gold.

"You have a wild mind," Quickfire grinned as he took advantage of his trine-mates surprise at all this and flew over to her. He slid his long body along hers, groaning at the pleasure of their belly-plates rubbing and sliding.

"Just experienced," she hissed and rubbed her nose along his jaw. The vibration of her sounds traveled the full length of her body, setting off sparks in his neural net.

"Want to get some space?" He suggested with a grin, moving up to a higher altitude while his trine-mates sorted out what to do.

Ezara chuckled and wrapped her long along around his, rubbing and caressing sensitive belly-plates as they flew upwards. "You are far more open than your friends," she cooed with the hissing voice of the form. "Want to mate," she nipped at his throat, just below his jaw. "Feel you inside me."

"Happy to oblige," he hissed back, returning the nip, pressing his body against hers the way the data pack had said, rubbing against her scales. He felt part of himself pulse with pleasure and slip out from between two belly plates low on his long body. Before he could grasp more than that, she'd wrapped herself tightly around him, the small horns on her head under the soft part of his lower jaw.

It left him largely helpless, or, he realized abruptly, it kept her safe from attack.

A low, hissing moan escaped him as the newly exposed part of his body was enveloped in slick heat. Without thinking he tightened his muscles along the lower half of his body, forcing himself deeper into the intense pleasure.

"Yesss," Ezara's pleasure radiated through him, encouraging him to give in fully to the instincts she'd supplied in the data pack.

Not far away, Greystrike and Nightstrike watched. Despite how arousing the sensation washing through them from the pair, they were both thinking.

::I do not believe she gets the attention she wants from the Autobots,:: Greystrike mused silently to his trine-mate. ::She's too hungry.::

::If we bring her back to the cause, Megatron will be most pleased,:: Nightstrike agreed. ::Maybe enough to make _us_ the first trine instead of Starscream's.::

::Especially if that half-cocked psychopath gets killed,:: Greystrike couldn't help his amusement. ::She is capable of it, if she gets close to him.::

::It may be enough,:: he looked at his trine-leader. ::It is worth it.::

::Yes, it is,:: Greystrike agreed as they join the pair.

Ezara uncoiled as they neared, shifting her body and hissed invitingly at Nightstrike. It only took him a moment to realize she wanted him to press his phallus into the opening Quickfire already occupied.

::I'll go suggest another scene while I'm up there,:: he told Greystrike, giving him a quick rundown of what he had in mind before shifting and flying up to join them.

Greystrike chuckled and flew up as well. He along her back, rubbing himself against her and enjoying the shutters she gave in response. He didn't have to look to know that Quickfire wasn't going to last, and a bit to his surprise, Nightstrike was already on the edge as well.

He exchanged the idea that he and Nightstrike had been toying with with her as his trine-mates both finished, energy transferring over to her as she got the chance to consider the next 'scene.'

"I like it," she hissed, enjoying the rush of that came from bringing both her lovers to overload in the same moment. "I like the way you three think."

"Going down?" Greystrike suggested, the area beneath them shifting into a thick jungle.

Ezara snickered and vanished. "Catch me if you can, boys!" her voice echoed as a glint of metal reflecting sunlight caught Nightstrike's attention.

"There!" he pointed before the glimmer vanished.

* * *

"She's crazier than we are," Moonracer murmured as the six of them moved quietly through the deserted remains of the abandoned sector.

"If she pulls it off though, what a score," Starjumper grinned over.

"We'll just have to be careful - a jailbreak could be a _real_ problem if we keep picking them up like this," Moonracer observed. "We don't want a dozen Deceps busting out on Earth."

"This will only make five," Elita-1 remarked. "Two of which will never wake up. These mechs will be phase-two testing."

"Just thinking we might want to be careful about taking too many prisoners back. I'm sure they'll have it under control," Moonracer granted, letting it drop. "How much further to the pickup point?"

"I trust Optimus to know what he can handle," Elita-1 smiled faintly at her youngest operative. "On the other side of those ruins," she motioned up ahead to what had once been a grand mall.

They all fell silent, not sure in what state the Seeker trine, or Ezara, would be in when they got there.

"What the..." Moonracer scowled at the first sight of Ezara kneeling, surrounded by the three mechs who'd been chasing here, but no one was moving.

"Get the cuffs on them," Elita-1 interrupted with a low hiss and darted forward.

The rest of them didn't question anything. Each of the fliers was startled when the first cuff when on, but the second was attached before they could react, disabling their weapons systems and shutting down their ability to escape at the same time they were rather rudely hauled out of Ezara's processors.

The Tezita made a rather pitiful sound in objection and nearly fell forward, right into Elita-1's arms.

"Your timing _sucks_," Ezara hissed, her arousal hitting Elita-1 like a tidal wave and all but dragging her under before they both managed to get themselves back in their own heads and stay there.

"Come on," Elita-1 helped haul the noticeably taller femme to her feet and held her steady as Ezara found her balance. "I'm sure a few guys back at base will be happy to take the edge off."

"I hope so," Ezara let a shiver pass through her entire frame, causing it to shimmer slightly as the nanites that formed her body settled back into place. With that she transformed into her hovercar mode and began to modify it, extending the back and hollowing out the center until all three Seekers could be stored inside without difficulty.

"You are one weird Transformer," Moonracer shook her head.

"Not really. I'm Tezita military," Ezara almost chuckled. "We all can to some extent. Let's get out of here."

"Doesn't make it any less weird," she observed, the entire group taking off to head back to base.


	16. The Key to Vector Sigma

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Skywarp/Ezara  
_Rating_:  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary_: When Megatron takes his newest creations to Cybertron to give them personalities, Optimus Prime and company follow. It turns into a bigger event than anyone expected.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 16: The Key to Vector Sigma**

* * *

"Prime!" Prowl called out for his CO's attention. "We have a space bridge activation."

"He must be headed to Cybertron to impart full personalities to the Stunticons," Optimus stated, hiding much of his real concern over the implications. "Ironhide, Jazz, Wheeljack, Blaster, Hoist, Ratchet, Caurun, you're coming with me," Optimus ordered. "Everyone else, be on guard for a Decepticon attack if they get back first."

"Yes Sir," Prowl gave a small, sharp nod and watched them scramble for the space bridge.

"Should I transmit to Magnus, let him know we're coming?" Blaster asked as he rode along inside Jazz. "See if we can arrange to meet up and get Ezara into it."

"A good idea, if she is still on Cybertron," Optimus agreed.

"What has you so keyed up about this?" Caurun asked, flying alongside and slightly above the fast-moving convoy.

"If Megatron is going to activate a new team of Decepticons, they'll probably be another gestalt," Wheeljack explained. "Devastator was the first, but a very primitive design. Another like that, with over a hundred and fifty thousand vorn to develop the technology to a better level, could be far worse, particularly ones designed to resemble _us_."

"Why don't you have a counterpart to Devastator?" Caurun asked with a touch of curiosity as he unslung his rail gun with the space bridge within range. "I'm not detecting any activity."

"It's one of the reasons I tried to build the Dinobots," Wheeljack explained. "With the problems you noticed. The real problem is that there was never an effort to develop one after them - not until the war began, and then we never had a suitable group of Sparks drawn out. Omega Supreme is our best counterpart to them, because of his grudge if nothing else."

Caurun fell silent, though it wasn't difficulty to figure out he couldn't follow the logic all that well.

"I'm still not detecting anything," Caurun reported as he landed next to the controls. "So how does this work?" he glanced at Jazz.

"Activated it, get inside the circle and up, up and away we go," Jazz grinned.

"Be sure you focus on remaining on the beam," Optimus added. "It's easy to get lost on the ride. Be ready to fight when we get there. It goes to the Decepticon control tower on Cybertron."

"Understood," Caurun flicked his chin up in the Lydrom equivalent of a nod and watched carefully as Wheeljack activated the system.

There was a sense of cacophonous lights and rapid movement - but before long, they were surrounded by the enclosed room at the other end of the space bridge. Weapons raised, they all tensed, ready to respond as soon as the doors opened.

"This is _so_ not a good place to be," Caurun raised his rail gun and aimed it squarely at the part in the door. He didn't hesitate a nanoklik when they parted to a swath of deep purple.

The first hits sent Shockwave stumbling back and every alarm in the building went off.

"Let's hope that's our backup," Optimus said as he opened fire on a security drone to help cover everyone's exit from the room.

Jazz and Blaster both fired on Shockwave again, trying to keep him down while everybody moved past him, blaster bolts streaking past them from the drones. They shot down as many as they could, keeping an eye out for reinforcements from other directions.

A moment later the entire tower shuddered and a data burst from Ezara hit them.

"Hoist, Ratchet, _move_," Optimus ordered sharply, getting the two out of the way just before the entire wall on their side warped inward, then folded in on itself, half-melted.

Hovering on the other side was Ezara's jet form. Everything was still for a fraction of a nanoklik, then she opened fire, slicing through drones without a single blast of collateral damage.

"All aboard for Altihex, Praxus, Gygax, Vos, Tripacon, Iacon and Kaon with a brief stop at the detention center for prisoner drop-offs," she announced cheerily as she landed, her shape flowing into a larger one with room inside for all eight of them and Shockwave.

"If we're hitting Kaon, we're going to need bigger guns," Ironhide quipped, laying down suppressing fire as the others loaded on, following them on-board.

"I'm hurt," Ezara said with mock pain in her voice. "Guns don't get bigger than mine.

"Your girlfriend is officially crazy," Blaster commented to Jazz as they strapped in.

"You have no idea," Jazz chuckled with a wink and grin.

"Hey! You're not authorized to move!" Ezara suddenly snarled as Shockwave took the distraction of their boarding to slip away as another shudder hit the tower. This time the explosions that caused it were easily audible.

"Leave him, we need to find Megatron," Optimus said firmly as the hatch closed behind Ironhide.

Ezara's engines rumbled to life and she lifted off vertically, turning in place and darting out the hole she'd made. "Ultra Magnus, Elita-1, I'm on my way to pick-up," she radioed the two teams.

"Acknowledged," Ultra Magnus' deep voice responded almost immediately.

"Understood," Elita-1 answered a moment later.

The eight Autobots inside watched with a mixture of unease and fascination as vehicle they were riding in shifted form in flight, doubling its interior space and adding ten seats.

"Megatron won't know what hit him," Ezara chuckled as she set down. Blurr and Hot Rod were on board the moment her hatch opened, with Ultra Magnus following a moment later. "This team is more than enough to handle a new gestalt if he has one."

"If we can catch up with him in time, he won't," Optimus pointed out. "It's good to see you again, Magnus," he said, clasping the warrior's hand. "I just wish it were under better circumstances."

"With some luck, this may be the last battle," Magnus pointed out. "I'd say that's the best circumstance we could ask for."

"I can catch up, but I do need to know where'm goin'," Ezara told them as she lifted off and powered her engines up only slightly to meet Elita-1's team on the other side of the tower's complex.

"Alpha Trion - do you remember where his old laboratory is from my memories?" Optimus asked her as she landed and Elita-1's team bolted on board.

Ezara was silent as she sealed the hatch and lifted off again, this time under heavy fire. "I think so," she finally said. "Hold on, this'll be bumpy," she warned them as she began to dodge and dart through the laserfire. The route was twisted, half of it underground, only to have her pop up and land just outside the ancient's lab. She didn't wait for them to disembark, but instead drew her body into it's biped form in streams from the ship around them.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that," Jazz observed, looking around, on the alert for security forces.

"It looks like Megatron was already here," Prime said grimly, moving into the obviously trashed lab. "Let's hope they didn't find Alpha Trion."

Ezara made a quick visual scan for energy signatures and walked quickly to a pile of debris. "He's alive, under here," she called attention as she began to toss the scrap aside.

"What condition is he in?" Optimus asked her as he joined in with moving the scrap, the others moving it out of the way to make room. "Ratchet, get ready."

"Weak, but I don't know his baseline," she told him as a pale hand came into view and twitched. She grabbed it, sending a reassuring promise that help was here as the ancient was uncovered.

Prime hauled a large piece out of the way, exposing most of Alpha Trion's battered body. Ratchet moved to his side in a flash.

"I just need to be sure you're stable, and we'll get you out," he promised, hooking a diagnostic scanner into place.

"What happened to the Key?" Magnus asked from the entryway. "Is it somewhere in here yet?"

"There is no time," Alpha Trion tried to push Ratchet away, but the old medic wouldn't have any of it. "Megatron has the Key. He's on his way to Vector Sigma now."

"I don't suppose anyone knows how to get there?" Ezara glanced towards Prime, Ultra Magnus, then Ironhide.

"That information has been lost for eons," Optimus shook his head.

"Which is why we need you alive," Ezara looked at the ancient pointedly.

"If you can tell them, do it, but I'm staying here with you either way," Ratchet told him just as firmly.

"Sending the guys out for recon," Blaster said, ejecting his cassettes. "If they can find Megatron, that's what we're after either way."

"Pass the maps to me," Ezara said, not quite touching the ancient. "I can lead the way as well as you can."

"Good, but we will wait," Optimus Prime said firmly, earning him a glare from Ezara. "We'll need Ratchet when we find them."

"He's stable," she motioned towards Alpha Trion with her chin.

"We wait," Optimus repeated firmly, locking optics with her until she took a fraction of a step back and muttered something to the affirmative.

"You should listen to her, Optimus Prime," Alpha Trion's voice was low and gravely. "She sees the mission for what it is."

"Don't bother, Ancient," she gave him a measure of respect she didn't particularly care to. "He's as stubborn as they come."

"Used to leading herself?" The ancient Transformer guessed, looking up at Optimus. "It's been a long time. It's good to see you back, Prime."

"Yes, she is," Optimus nodded and stepped closer without getting in Ratchet or Wheeljack's way. "It has been too long."

"Enough with the mushy stuff," Ratchet groused. "Everybody that's not repairing him on the other side of the room!"

* * *

Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus watched Jazz do his thing, calming their fidgety and temperamental Tezita with a light touch and a few words that soon were just music.

"You got beyond lucky, recruiting that one," Magnus commented, his voice low. "How serious is it?"

"I know," Optimus nodded slightly. "I believe it's as serious as it is with me, just for different reasons. Neither have made any indication it's anything more."

"I doubt she'd know if it was, love," Elita-1 said quietly, startling both mechs.

Optimus looked at her, trying to gage where the statement was coming from.

"She let me look too," Elita-1 told him. "Survival and pleasure are all she knows."

"That is not the impression I got," Ultra Magnus raised an eyebrow at her.

"That is the difference between _her_, and what she's become," Elita-1 gave him an understanding smile for the headache-inducing concept. "She has something like the Matrix of Leadership in her."

"Only much more ... talkative," Optimus added, glancing towards Ezara, who was twitching every so slightly. Jazz had gotten her to stop pacing and fidgeting, but hadn't done much to ease her need to be _doing_ something. It was a reaction everyone understood. They all wanted to get moving, to stop Megatron.

"If he succeeds, he'll have two gestalt teams," Ezara said to no one in particular, though her gaze was on Optimus. "We really need to do something about that."

"I know," Prime agreed. "Our options will be limited though, until we can get Wheeljack's input. We may be able to build a gestalt of our own, if we can reach Vector Sigma and get the Key back."

"We will," she promised with a tone that unsettled everyone but Caurun, who chuckled at what he knew was in the near future for a certain Decepticon. "I do not understand why you have not brought more Autobots on-line, if you had the Key and the way there all this time. You _need_ warriors, or at least soldiers," she didn't really ask, her gaze shifting to Alpha Trion and the work being done on him

"Shockwave has always known _roughly_ where Vector Sigma is," Magnus explained. "We've known the area as well - and it's been crawling with Decepticons ever since they took the city."

"There have been missions," Jazz distracted her, his words earning more attention than Ultra Magnus'. "Bur for a gestalt team, or even a standard warrior?" he shook his head. "Too risky, even for Prowl and me."

"You've been there since we lost Iacon?" Ultra Magus couldn't quite hide his surprise.

"Three times," the saboteur nodded. "For Tetris, Quicksilver and Bumblebee."

"Is Megatron insane enough to destroy it?" Ezara abruptly asked as Alpha Trion stood up.

"I'm sure he isn't," the ancient said, shaking his head. "Not while there was a chance he could still control it himself. A limitless supply of warriors he could corrupt? Thank you," he said to the two medics who'd repaired him. "But we must go now."

"About time," Ezara was on her feet, eager to move. "The maps?" she asks Alpha Trion, her fingers barely millimeters away.

"I intend no offense," he told her, "but I would rather keep the information of Vector Sigma's location in Autobot hands," he said, drawing back, moving towards Prime.

No one who was looking missed her annoyance, but Ezara made no protest as she made a quick nod.

"_Now_ can we go?" she asked.

"Yes," Prime nodded. "Transform and roll out!" he ordered. He noted, only absently, that Ezara took a variant of her airborne form. She kept low to the road, only just above them, so he didn't press her to change. He understood very well the joy of flight and how much it settled her.

Even when they entered the tunnels, there was plenty of space for her to fly. It was only then that he realized that she was touching everyone, and was slightly on guard when she came above him. The contact was feather-light though, a polite query of system status and a download of everyone else's.

He realized quickly that she was simply getting the conditions of everybody involved, and allowed the exchange without a problem.

"When the battle starts, make sure Alpha Trion stays safe," he told her. He felt her resistance, the irritation at being put on the back line of what was sure to be a critical battle.

"I will," she consented after a long internal debate.

Despite her feelings, he had no doubt she'd protect the ancient with her life, now that she'd agreed to do so. It didn't matter that she wasn't fond of him. It was her duty now.

"Thank you," he reinforced her acceptance the best way he could. "He means a great deal to me. To all of us," he added

"I know," Ezara answered, leaving Optimus without any doubt that she was doing this as an outright favor to him. "He..." whatever she was going to say was cut off by a series of powerful explosions just up ahead.

"Let's catch up, Autobots," Magnus said grimly, moving ahead to be even with Optimus, slightly behind him, the two heavily armored big rigs ready to take the lead into the battle only to find the way blocked. The explosions were not of combat but of a trap to block their way.

"Which way now?" Ezara asked of anyone who would answer as she hovered over Alpha Trion, her wings thin and wide, curving down in a protective drape.

"We'll have to head east, through the old spaceport," Alpha Trion said after a minute to consider the routes he knew. "It hasn't been used since the Decepticons took over, they won't expect us to be coming through that way."

"Autobots, move out!" Optimus rumbled the order as the entire column of twenty reversed direction and began to shuffle their order to put everyone where they belonged again.

"Prime, let me take Ezara's duty," Caurun spoke quietly as his hovertank alt came up next to the big rig. "She's more useful on the front line, and I am the better defender."

"All right," Optimus agreed after a moment to consider it. "I'll let her know. Keep a careful eye on him; he's the oldest one of us left."

"I will," Caurun promised and sped up to come even with Alpha Trion while Optimus passed the change of orders to Ezara.

Almost instantly her wings straitened and she shot forward, taking the lead by three lengths. Almost as fast, she flipped around and darted to the back of the column.

"Coming down," she warned them as she transformed into feral form and tackled something on the ceiling behind the last car. She, and a much larger mech, succumbed to gravity almost immediately.

"I surrender, don't attack," a startled male voice cried out with a grunt as they hit.

"Grinder?" Ezara scowled as she transformed to bot form, still crouched on top of the large brown and grey mech. "You aren't on this mission."

"I know," he mumbled. "I..."

"What's going on here?" Magnus asked, transforming and turning to face the scene, rifle at the ready.

"It seems that somebody objected to being left behind," Ezara answered for the mumbling mech as she hopped off him and offered him a hand up.

"Grinder!" Magnus glared at him as he got to his feet, making the powerful mech tremble. "You disobeyed a direct order."

"I know sir, I just couldn't let ... leave ... I mean..." he stammered, only silencing when Ezara began to chuckle.

"You're sweet. Misguided and in trouble when we're done, but sweet," she patted his shoulder before turning and walking up to Ultra Magnus. "He thinks he's in love," she spoke softly, her voice surprisingly gentle. "As much as he hates letting you go out without him, both of us on one mission was too much for his processor. I think you finally found what it takes for your most loyal soldier to disobey you."

Ultra Magnus glared at her evenly for a long time before focusing on the nervous brown and grey mech. "You may come. I will determine a suitable punishment when we return to base."

"Yes Sir!" Grinder saluted him sharply, his entire body relaxing as he transformed into a heavy armored assault vehicle to join the convoy and everyone got rolling again.

Once more Ezara took the lead, three truck lengths ahead of Optimus. Close enough to be part of the group, but far enough ahead that anything aiming for him would literally have to go threw her first.

"Movement up ahead," she reported not much afterwards. "To much to be Megatron."

"Can you transmit a picture of them?" Alpha Trion asked.

"Yap," she answered easily, sending the image, many times magnified, to him.

"Centurions," the ancient identified. "Robots programmed to defend Vector Sigma. If they are coming after us, it means Megatron has made it to the outer chamber. They are very difficult to destroy."

"Have at them," Optimus Prime ordered. "Everyone else, transform and prepare for battle."

He couldn't help the sense of pride when the soldiers of four separate, independent commands responded to him without question and worked in unison to protect Alpha Trion and set themselves up to take advantage of their various skills and what cover was to be had.

"I trust you are as deadly as ever," he smiled down at Chromia when the blue femme came up to join the other heavy-hitters with him in front.

"Better than the last time we met," she promised with a grin, her heavy bow at the ready. "Though I'm wondering that you need anyone with _that_ around," she added as she took in the carnage Ezara had created in the first few moments of battle. The tunnel was strewn with dark green robot bodies cut cleanly in half from her first pass in her airborne form, and how she was tearing in the next wave of Centurions in her feral form with a fervor that bordered on berserk.

"Such is the risk of war, when one becomes the enemy to fight the enemy," Alpha Trion said gravely. "She is not an Autobot."

"No, she is not," Optimus Prime agreed to almost everyone's surprise, his gaze flicking to Caurun, who was standing nervously by, his body squarely between the enemy and the ancient. "She is a high-ranking Tezita warrior. Her world is very different from Cybertron. It is not fair to judge her solely by our standards and history."

"Yet you ally with her, when she is as savage as any Decepticon," Alpha Trion's tone was disapproving as Chromia took aim and blew one of the few Centurions to get past Ezara to bits.

"Savage, yes. But also honorable, dedicated to her people, and seeking a way to have peace without destroying their culture," Optimus looked at him seriously. "She is a worthy ally, Alpha Trion."

The ancient smiled slightly. "You have grown into your role as a fine example of everything a Prime should be, Optimus."

In the surprise left by that remark, Alpha Trion slipped away, towards the back of the battle line with his guard.

"How are we supposed to fight and not hit her?" Magnus rumbled as he tried to get a clean shot in with Ezara dashing around like am oversized ferret on crack.

"You don't worry about her," Optimus said evenly, opening fire on one of the Centurions. "Her body will absorb the energy of anything you can fire. Accept it," he barked the order at everyone the moment he felt Ezara attempting to set up a combat link. "And fire!"

"What does it take to kill those things?" Ironhide growled.

"Physical damage," Optimus suddenly stated, subspacing his riffle and activating his energy axe before he charged. His first strike cleaved one in two and he felt the satisfaction of knowing how to win the battle. "Push them back, over the edge."

He felt a rush of excitement from Ezara; her silent, wordless call to rally and fight, that your leader is here, at your side and at the head of the charge. As much as he didn't want to give in, he couldn't help the way his Spark fluttered and pulsed in response. To do this in battle could make even the weakest soldiers brave, but it could also lead them into a slaughter.

::I'm not that foolish,:: Ezara told him on a private line. ::An easy battle, it will boost moral.::

::As long as you are careful,:: he agreed, pushing the Centurions back with Grinder and Ironhide shoulder to shoulder with him. The brown and green mech didn't seem to be much on initiative, but he was as tough as Ironhide once he got going. Ezara was having a grand time, tossing the robots off the edge or simple crunching into them and tearing out huge slabs of metal and circuitry.

"Damage report," Optimus called out when things had settled, his optics and sensors taking in a force larger than his entire contingent on Earth.

"Minor at most," Ezara reported after pinging for everyone's status over the battle link. "We can move on."

As much as he trusted her and the information she'd gotten, he waited until everyone had confirmed it before ordering them to roll out again.

"Oh hay, the shuttles are still intact!" Wheeljack called out as they passed one of the bays.

::Dawnracer to Ultra Magnus,:: a heavily secured transmission grabbed his attention.

::This is Ultra Magnus. Go ahead Dawnracer," he replied quickly.

::Megatron and nine Decepticons have been spotted on the surface. Transmitting coordinates.::

::Coordinates received,:: he replied. ::Keep them in sight. A strike force is on the way.::

::Understood. Dawnracer out.::

"Optimus, Megatron has succeeded and returned to the surface. One of my agents spotted them," Magnus spoke quietly.

"Take your team and Ezara and go after him," Optimus ordered quickly. "The rest of us will secure Vector Sigma from whatever security he left."

"Ezara, Elita-1, Chromia, Firestar, Moonracer, Silver Shadow, Starjumper, Blurr, Hot Rod, Grinder with me," Ultra Magnus called out as he pulled around. "We're going after Megatron!"

"Not everyone?" Ezara asked as she passed by Optimus Prime.

"We're going to secure Vector Sigma," he told her, more than a little surprised when she _and Jazz_ stopped.

"I'll catch up," she promised Ultra Magnus before transforming to her base form with Jazz. "Be _careful_," she all but hissed at Jazz and pulled something from subspace before shoving it into his hand with a spat of sounds Optimus couldn't catch well enough to understand.

"You too," he said, then suddenly grabbed her for a hard kiss as he subspaced the glowing white stick she'd given him. "I'll be back for the rest of that tonight," he told her in Tezitan before stepping away and transforming to catch up with Optimus while she recovered from the surprise.

"What was that all about?" Optimus asked his Chief of Intelligence curiously.

"She gave me a Si'Mir Blade," he said. "It's ... man, it's big time on the heavyweight gifts list."

"And what you said to her?" Optimus asked, filing the name away as something to check up on later.

"Ah, something I picked up from'er memories. Seemed the right thin' ta do," Jazz said. "It's ah ... ritual ... a promise ta return, alive and whole."

"What has her so scared?" Optimus asked, privately concerned. "This isn't even a dangerous mission for you."

"I know," Jazz said more quietly. "Somethin's got'er spooked, 'n bad."

"Ask her," Optimus decided. "I know you've got encryption protocols that Soundwave can't crack."

Jazz fell back a bit and opened a frequency to ping her. The instant reply was nearly as troubling as her gift.

::Jus'a gut reaction,:: she answered, her tone uneasy and vocal pattern matching his far too well for his comfort. If she was in Spec Ops mode, it was bad. ::Somethin's goin' down. Big an' bad an'...::

::Focus on Megatron,:: Jazz made it an order and prayed to Primus that she'd obey like the Intel officer she was thinking like. ::Trust me ta do what ah do.::

There was a long pause.

::I promised ta come back fer the rest,:: he sent into the silence. :I do know what that means ta ya.::

::I trust ya,:: she eventually responded and cut the connection.

"Well?" Optimus asked when Jazz came even with him again.

"She's scared out'a'er wits. I got'er ta focus on Megatron." Jazz said. "Sh'z no clue what's wrong. I trust'er instincts, Prime. Sh' does the connect'n thing at my level. On instinct, untrained, but sh' does it."

"Then will we have to be on guard even more," Optimus replied the only way he could.

* * *

"I have him on sensors," Ezara reported to Ultra Magnus. "All nine are still with him, and two Seeker trines are providing air cover. I can knock'm down fast," she offered.

"Go," he agreed. "Burr, get ready."

"Yessir, I'malwaysreadysir!" the speedster responded, only shutting up when Chromia bumped him.

Ezara shifted her form and darted into the sky, making a very obvious display of her presence before she opened the most common Decepticon hailing frequencies.

"Hay boys! Remember me?" her tone was playful, almost jovial, but it had a bite to it as well. "Land or crash, your choice. I'm not hunting Seekers today."

Rather than responding, the two trines opened fire on her, setting up a crossfire that made dodging incredibly difficult.

Her outer shell shimmered and she stepped trying to dodge, taking the hits and adding their energy to her reserves.

"Nice try boys, but Screamer used those on me once too often," she chatted at them and altered her wings and an atom's width at the leading edge, then began to aim for wings and tails, slicing the first one off cleanly.

"Backup plan," the message flashed across the second trine before their cannons started firing - with entirely too-solid bullets that ripped into Ezara's armor and delicate, paper-thin wings.

It earned them a snarl as her form shifted to one meant to take abuse. Slower and more brutish, but armored to the nines.

She made a turn, pushing her engines to get above them and dived. A circuit-shattering frequency ripped though the air, tearing into the tetra jet below her. Metal panels warped and tore, circuits smashing inside before they fell smoking to the ground below, smashing through walls and digging into the metal streets.

On the ground ahead of the sparing fighters, Megatron spotted Ultra Magnus and the unusually large Autobot force assembled against him.

"Decepticons, attack!" he roared, aiming his cannon at Elita-1. "Show Prime what happens when he sends femmes to do his work," he muttered, firing as his own men moved forward, some of them coming out of side alleys, others coming down from the sky - he had been ready for this. Elita-1 dodged out of the way of his blast, returning fire as Chromia moved to come at him from the side, only to be stopped when Ravage leaped on her from the side, driving her to the ground.

Ezara made a strafing run, firing on them, forcing some of them to stay back - much as Megatron would have enjoyed stretching this out, with her on the field and his trines down, he needed to play his trump card early.

"Stunticons! Form Menasor!" Megatron ordered. He felt pleased at the gasp from the Autobot forces when the giant formed. It was the scream above him that drew his attention though, just in time to see Ezara's sleek jet form dive down, away from Menasor and below the surface level of Cybertron into the canyons below.

Even before he fully processed her movement something hit him in a raw, unstoppable tidal wave: terror.

Not fear, Megatron knew and understood fear. Respected it. He used it to his advantage every orn.

This, this was a deadly thing. The mindless reaction when one was pushed past fear and into a place where they no long recognized anything but the need to escape at any cost.

"Fascinating," he murmured, recovering his processors as the sensation subsided, he suspected with distance. "Fire!" he roared at his Decepticons, shaking the remaining ones out of the frozen state the wave of terror had created. "Blast them out of existence!"

"Fire!" Ultra Magnus rallied his own remaining forces from the unsettling experience. "They must not escape."

"Fool, we don't need to escape," Megatron taunted him. He suddenly shifted his focus to the big brown and grey Autobot that was charging him. "Fool," he muttered and fired. The shot only grazed Grinder though, and didn't slow his charge as he plowed into Megatron and began pounding him with fist-grinders designed to tear apart anything.

Grinder was abruptly flung aside, impacting with a building some distance away as Menasor swatted him.

Megatron got to his feet and rejoined the battle, focusing his efforts on Ultra Magnus and Elita-1. "Crush them!" he ordered Menasor, causing the giant to move forward and into the Autobot line. While no one was crushed, it did scatter the Autobots and broke their focus.

"Autobots, fall back!" Magnus ordered reluctantly, firing on Menasor, aiming for the joints between the different Stunticons, hoping to force them to separate - the only tactic that had worked when Devastator was brought onto the field before. It wasn't working so well, this time.

What was worse, he couldn't place Hot Rod, Moonracer, Silver Shadow, Starjumper or Blurr.

Chromia stood next to him, providing cover for the others with her bow and doing plenty of damage while she was at it. Grinder tackled Megatron again, knocking the Decepticon Lord to the ground and pounded on him. Before Menasor could knock him away again, a high-pitched whine came from behind the Decepticon lines.

Ezara came back onto the battlefield, her sonic weapon pulsing loudly. It wasn't as effective on Menasor, but the vibrations apparently managed to affect his links - the Stunticons came apart at the seams, literally, though within moments they were in the battle again, hurling Grinder away from Megatron.

"Fall back!" Ultra Magnus ordered again, more forcefully, as the Decepticons began to fall back as well. He couldn't see the key - he had to hope that Megatron had lost it in the battle, and they'd have the chance to get it back after the scene was clear. Maybe Grinder had gotten a shot at it.

"Icouldn'tfindTheKey. Lookedeverywhere. It'snothere!" Burr zoomed up to Ultra Magnus when both sides were out of the other's range.

"Because I got it," Silver Shadow said as she uncloaked nearby, holding up the prize.

"That..." Ezara gasped out as she landed shakily on her feet. "_That_ was worth the entire nightmare," her voice cracked, almost turning into a laugh as she braced her hands on her knees, bent over and struggling to control her trembling.

"Ezara?" Grinder walked up to her, hesitating just out of touching range.

"I'm fine," she insisted, though she didn't look particularly fine.

"Snap out of it, Ezara," Magnus told her firmly with a strong hand on her shoulder. While he was hoping to get her back into focus, he wasn't expecting to feel the intense, giddy _relief_ in her. The battle hadn't been that dicey. "We need to get this back to Prime as fast as possible - laughing fits don't make for good speed."

"Right," she shuddered and made a visible effort to pull her wits together and straiten up.

"Transform and roll out!" Magnus ordered, turning away from Ezara and transforming. He kept a sharp sensor on her as she obeyed, transforming to her hovercar mode and falling into the line. She was still trembling, her entire frame vibrating minutely, but she kept up and kept on track, so he let it go.

Still, he hadn't seen a reaction like that in a seasoned warrior before. Plenty of times from first-time combatants, but never someone who had fought as many brutal battles as he knew she had.

::Are you all right?:: He asked her silently when she moved close enough to take a scan of his condition after the fight and pass on her scans of the others.

::Yes,:: she answered, sounding more like herself, though there was still a giddy edge to her voice. ::You don't have the hardwiring, but I'll try to explain. Height and mass has a direct link to rank, and power, for Tezita. It's inherent in the core programming of my race, as is fear of enemies of notably greater rank.::

::Which is why you fled,:: he said, having at least a level of understanding. ::But why did you return if it is hardwired into you?::

::Loyalty. Honor. I'm still coming down from the rerouting that took,:: she tried not to giggle. ::That's not the point. After that, after knocking him down, I can keep my own troops from panicking when we facing that kind of thing.::

::And keep it from happening yourself - I'm glad you came back,:: he told her sincerely. ::This changes the situation though. Can you scout the route to Prime?::

::Of course,:: she answered easily and darted forward, transforming as her nose lifted into the air to take flight. ::Jazz, all good down there?:: she asked on the same heavily encrypted frequency he'd contacted her with earlier. ::We have the Key and are headed your way.::

::I'll tell Prime,:: he said. ::How are ya? Ya sound ... off.::

::I'm surprised ya dinna hear me screaming all the way down there,:: she laughed nervously.

::Scream?:: Jazz prompted, for the spark in him unable to think of what could make her scream.

::It's a ... gestalt,:: she told him. ::You know...::

::Ya, I know,:: he didn't make her finish. ::We'll mee'ya in the hanger. Gonna built us some new Autobots.::

::Understood. Seeya there,:: she said and closed the line and opened another secure one. ::Ultra Magnus.::

::Report,:: his voice came back.

::Prime's unit is falling back to the hanger,:: she reported, not the least bit offended by the tone of command he took with her. ::We're going to build new Autobots before continuing to Vector Sigma. I recommend calling what engineers, mech designers and medics you can spare to make it go faster. An Autobot gestalt attempt.::

::Understood,:: he responded. ::The path is clear?::

::So far,:: she told him. ::I'm two thirds there.::


	17. Working Diversions

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Skywarp/Ezara, Jazz/Ezara  
_Rating_: PG-13  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary_: A lot of information comes out about the Tezita while everyone works on building the twelve new Autobot bodies.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 17: Working Diversions**

* * *

Jazz looked up from the scavenging work he was doing for Ratchet when he heard the distinctive rumble of Ezara's engines in the tunnel beyond and went to greet her. Before he'd fully emerged he found himself with an armful of half-liquefied Tezita wrapping around him.

"Hey! Hey, relax," he embraced her, keeping a very tight check on the rising panic from having her envelope him like that. "Relax," he whispered again, sending as much calm as he could through the increasingly intimate contact of her form melting around his. "Pull yaself tagether."

"Mmm, sorry," she murmured, drawing her nanites into the solid femme he was used to.

"Ya had a good battle," Jazz grinned up at her and she claimed a hot, hard kiss, her fingers playing along his back and the wheel rims at his shoulder joints.

"A very good battle," she rumbled, her fingers drawing a low moan and shiver from the saboteur.

"Why don't I return on your ship?" he suggested throatily as he tried to extract himself from her sensual embrace. "There's work ta do now."

Ezara stepped back, letting him go with a light kiss. "Which means I'm goin' inta stasis for a while," she sighed and let her optics off-line briefly.

"So who's gonna be helpin'?" Jazz asked, watching in fascination as control of their body mass was traded off. It seemed to go smoother every time she did it.

"Mitrix, Singer, Rawlind and Delta Six," an unnervingly harmonic mixture of four voices, two femme and two mech, responded as her body mass flowed into four. When they solidified into what they had looked like in life, each her height and built for hard combat, but Jazz was sure it was for show and familiarity. Each would only have a quarter of Ezara's mass, and only a quarter of her power.

"We are the ones most competent to assist in building the new bodies," Mitrix continued in Cybertronian.

Singer let out of low resonate humm before motioning Rawlind towards one area.

"I should introduce you first," Mitrix stopped Delta Six from walking off and motioned him to follow her towards Optimus Prime.

When they reached him, speaking with Alpha Trion, Optimus turned towards them, inclining his head respectfully to the first Toe'Emirc. Alpha Trion did the same, standing to meet someone who had the air of an equal far more than Ezara did.

"Optimus Prime, Leader of the Autobots, this is Toe'Emirc Delta Six, the first of our line," Mitrix introduced them with little preamble, then glanced at Alpha Trion. "I am Mitrix Alitron of Eti, the fifth Toe'Emirc. The other femme is Singer, the eighth, and the mech is Carin Rawlind of the Vistra, the eighteenth of us," she motioned to them.

"A pleasure to meet all of you. It is rare that I encounter anyone as old as I," he chuckled lowly.

"It is mutual," Delta Six tipped his chin up to the ancient Autobot.

"I understand that the team managed to retrieve the key," Prime said, wanting to reaffirm the reports he'd received. "But Megatron has already activated the Stunticons?"

"Affirmative to both," Delta Six answered, responding to the military manner as he had his entire life. "Silver Shadow used the battle as cover to steal it. We faced the results of its use then," he said.

"We _are_ planning to make an Autobot gestalt with this?" Mitrix motioned to the activity in the shuttle bay.

"That's the plan," Optimus agreed. "Hopefully, we can improve on the technology. Wheeljack can explain the shortfalls more easily than I can," he admitted. "Basically, it's an issue with the mental interlinking of the different mechs - the reason Omega Supreme's mind functions perfectly, while Devastator's is severely restrained."

The ancient Tezita looked around, assessing things. "There is enough here for at least twelve bodies."

"If we can organize them so that they fit together, that's a good start - give us a slight advantage, for the moment," Optimus nodded. "Will you be helping with the construction?" He asked politely.

"That is why the four of us were chosen," Delta Six gave him a slight smile. "I'm not a mechanic or engineer, but I've put enough teammates back together in the field to know what I'm doing."

"And his generation works a lot like you do," Mitrix added from where she'd moved off to gather parts.

"Who has the plans?" Delta Six asked.

"Wheeljack and Ratchet - they'll be the best place to start, and can get you caught up on the differences," Prime told them easily. "Thank you for your assistance."

"It is my honor, Prime," Delta Six saluted him briefly out of respect for a fellow battle-hardened general and marched towards the engineer and medic. "If you would bring the plans to the front of your processors, I can begin to work," he said politely to the pair as he came close. It grated him slightly to do so, but he was not going to risk Singer's wrath over something as minor as a few words to those of lower rank.

"The plans are still in flux," Wheeljack chuckled, giving him what he could. "There's a lot of it that's going to depend on the parts available. Some changes will happen when the sparks come through," he added. "But this is a start, at any rate. I'm thinking the main team will be one with some airpower - give us some help against them, like I tried to do with Swoop."

"And what you have the basis for here," Delta Six said thoughtfully. "The two extra frames we have parts for, we would suggest the design for."

"Of course - do you have preliminaries?" Ratchet asked, considering the parts they had.

"Air Guard," Delta Six reached out and lightly touched the medic, passing the designs he had in mind, and the modifications their supplies likely required to accomplish it. What hit Ratchet first was that this pair would likely be brothers, if not twins, and while he didn't completely grasp what was behind the title, it was intensely personal, and intensely important, to the ancient leader.

Half Cybertronian tetra jet, half Lydromian ni'kari fighter, but all Cybertronian in technology, the pair were intended to go up against a Seeker trine and send the trine packing.

More than anything, their purpose was 'defender', even if their design screamed dedicated warrior. It was a mix of worlds, technology and purpose that was difficult for Ratchet to wrap his processors around, but flowed easily from the first generation Tezitan.

"The personalities will be interesting to see ... are you planning on them being Cybertronian, or Lydromian?" Ratchet asked diplomatically.

"Cybertronian," Delta Six answered easily. "If they become what the design is intended to be, they will guard who or what they are assigned to. Ezara until our own Guard arrives, then at Prime's discretion, or him, by default."

"I don't see any problem with it - more air support won't be a bad thing, and they should go well with what we're hoping to do with the Aerialbots," Wheeljack reassured him. "It'll be good to see how it turns out."

"Thank you," Delta Six flicked his chin up in acknowledgement and stood. A subsonic three-click sequence caught the other Tezita's attention and the four converged in an open space.

Mitrix set an object down and a one-fifth-scale hologram of the unpainted hybrid fighter appeared between the four of them. Hands and thought reshaped the fighter, again and again, adding more than a few traces of human design into the mix as they struggled to balance speed, armor, weapons and technology with their knowledge of the first job the pair had to do.

"They have a most interesting way of passing on their leadership and knowledge," Alpha Trion commented quietly to Optimus Prime as they took a moment to watch the four previous Toe'Emirc debate the design they were all heavily vested in already. Each was different enough they could be separate species and not simply four points in twenty million years of evolution.

"Interesting, yes," Optimus agreed with him, wondering how much of this Ezara was privy to at the moment. "I can see the advantages, and have seen the pitfalls of it. I cannot help but wonder how much their technology will change Cybertron, and our future generations. They were what we are."

"It is always difficult to tell what the future will hold," Alpha Trion said, turning back to his work repairing and modifying one of the shuttles.

"We have the supplies," Singer was speaking when Ratchet approached them, watching for an indication that they objected to an outsider entering their meeting, even silently.

"She is a Guard herself, with or without the title," Rawlind added to a low rumble of displeasure from Delta Six. "Her nature is what it is," he reminded his ancestor.

"And these two have the unenviable task of protecting her when she is protecting others," Mitrix considered the design thoughtfully. "Opposing Forces?" she suggested, causing the hologram to change with a wave of her hand. Two fighters appeared instead of the one. They were still the hybrid design, but now they were radically different in function. One was relatively a small single-engine fighter with razor-thin, swept-back wings and canards; a design perfected for speed and agility, but light on weapons and armor. The other the larger, heavily plated with three engines and large wide wings to take hit after hit and not fall from the sky. Not quite a bomber or battle shuttle, but close.

"With only two, it might be the best way," Delta Six admitted. "The Dart is too feminine though."

"Too feminine?" Mitrix growled. "Just..."

"For Ezara," the ancient rolled his optics as he cut the rant off. "You know she has little taste for femmes."

"Given they are meant to guard her, that would actually be best," Rawlind said quietly. "Remember, she has not bonded yet, and will not for some time. It would serve better if she wasn't attracted to her Guard. She'll be more likely to let them do their job."

"All right, feminine," Singer murmured, her musical voice soothing the others. "It is easy with the Dart, but the Shield? Have any of us had a female Shield, or even a female Shield _candidate_?" she looked around the group.

"Ezara," Rawlind said simply, causing the others to exchange looks. "It is her style."

"At least in part," Mitrix agreed reluctantly, causing the image to shift again. The heavily armored one changed again, taking on slightly finer lines.

"If I ca' point out somethin'," Jazz walked up to the group. "If they're ta be Cybertronian, ya aren't restricted by height." He brought a hand up to Singer, holding just a bit away until she flicked her chin up in acceptance. She processed what he transferred, and though she was uneasy with it, she made the suggested modifications.

It produced a larger frame, one who's bot form would be likely be head and shoulders taller than Optimus.

And it had three Tezita unnerved to some extent.

"We did not always fear it," Delta Six spoke with quiet authority in their oldest language. "A guard was once expected to be larger."

The simple, even words made him the focus of the other three, highlighting that more than technology had changed in their long history.

"She faced the gestalt. She knows," Delta Six locked optics with each of them, then rested on Mitrix. "She will learn what you did to our kind in time."

"There is not one of us that did not change the Tezita," she replied in the same dialect. "For good or ill, we live with the choices made for and by us."

Rawlind considered the suggestion Jazz made and brought the conversation back to modern Cybertronian. "She'll either tear her apart, or like it," he said thoughtfully. "Not much way to know until they're face to face.

"This is _so_ wrong," Mitrix muttered, though she finished the schematics for both and passed them around. "Let's get working," she said, dissipating the group.

"Like working with Perceptor, Starscream, and Shockwave all on the same project," Wheeljack chuckled lowly as he walked up to Ratchet and kept a half an eye on the four Toe'Emircs. "All experts, and all wanting to do things _their_ way."

"You might want to go keep an eye on them, make sure it stays under control," Ratchet suggested. "And that our four experts don't forget the ingredients they've got on-hand. I've got this covered until we need to build the interlinks," he added when Wheeljack hesitated, considering the Aerialbots they had to work on yet. "It's straight mechanical work - you'll have the 'fun' programming them, and maybe working on the twins over there will help you get a few ideas to get us past the latency issues."

"You keep forgetting - for me, it _is_ fun," Wheeljack chuckled, though he did head over to Delta Six to see if he'd be welcome helping with the designs that were starting to take shape.

"The material is not good enough," the ancient was scowling at the metal they had gathered.

"Then we do this fast and dirty," Singer told him as she reached inside her torso and brought out a large, squirming ball of nanites.

"They are to be Cybertronian," Delta Six glared at her.

"They will be," she promised, her tone patient. "This will make her as well-suited for her duties as that technology permits," she said as she let the ball drop onto their source metal and stepped to him. A brush of fingers along his arm and he flicked his chin up and took a ball of nanites out of himself to add to the mix.

Wheeljack spotted that Mitrix and Rawlind were doing the same thing a distance away.

"What's the problem?" He asked them, trying to figure out what the issue was, and if he knew a way around it already.

"The metal is too weak," Delta Six said. "A Shield must be strong enough to take any hit in the line of duty. They also must _believe_ they can take that hit, just as they believe it is worth their Spark to do so."

"The Spark reinforces it," he told them. "It might not make any sense, but it's true. Extra won't hurt, but it _will_ be stronger once the Spark is in there. Also don't forget that we can laminate the metal here."

"We'll keep that in mind," Singer told him as she knelt and began to shape a wing with her voice and hands while Delta took another piece to shape into part of the fuselage with more brute force methods.

"I can help with that," Wheeljack offered, pulling his blaster out and adjusting it to a welding mode, softening the metal to make it easier to bend. "Mind talking over a few of the 'hows' on what we're doing?" He asked the ancient Toe'Emirc.

"No," Delta Six looked up at him briefly. "What are you curious about?"

"Well, in part, the transition between mechanical and nanite-based building materials," Wheeljack offered. "Also, I've got some questions about your spark-merging ability."

"Mitrix is the one you really want to speak to about the nanites. It was her greatest contribution to our kind," Delta Six told him. "Sparks I do know about, more than anyone but possibly Singer," he tipped his chin towards the master crafter working with him, and far faster.

"I'll start there then - it's what could have the biggest effect on what we're doing here," Wheeljack admitted. "What is the basic process, when you take parts of two Sparks and merge them? Does it harm the parent sparks? And do they control what aspects of the personality are passed on?"

"Harm is a relative term," Delta Six began. "It does weaken them. Each donor permanently gives up some of their power, in the form of part of their spark, to create the new spark. Some can control what they pass on," he motioned towards Singer. "Though it is a rare skill."

::An imperfect one, even at my level,:: Singer added by radio without looking up from her work.

"We do know enough to have a basic expectation of what the youngling will be like based on the donors, but it is never a sure thing. The only unbreakable rule that we know of is that a Beast Spark, even when pared with something else, will always produce another Beast, if the merge takes."

"Beast Spark? Like Ravage?" Wheeljack guessed. "Have you ever tried with more than two 'parent' Sparks?"

"Like Ravage, and Ezara," he flicked his chin up. "And yes. Three parents are not uncommon for military. There have been a few cases of one, four or five, though it is rare. Rawlind has done the most research on Beasts in modern times, Mitrix in old times."

"Hold on - Ezara is a 'Beast Spark'? What _is_ one?" Wheeljack asked with a frown, sure now that it wasn't any definition he was used to working with.

"Yes, she is one. The first Toe'Emirc to be one," Delta Six flicked his chin up. "A Beast Spark is generally defined as the native type of Lydrom. They are much more reliant on instinct and reflex than most, and no matter how intelligent or socialized one might be, they are easy to predict once you understand what drives them.

"There has been much arguing over the generations about whether there are one or two breeds, but it has never been officially divided. Those like Ezara can be socialized and brought into society, sometimes very successfully. They are the backbone of every heavy strike unit. The wild ones never accept the authority of anything but their own kind, and are rarely able to function in our society on any level except as an executioner."

::A practice that was outlawed by Alpha as cruel to the Beasts,:: Singer added absently.

"Understood ... it may explain something more about the Decepticons," Wheeljack mused.

::Why would it explain the Decepticons?:: Singer asked. ::It's highly unlikely that Tezita and Cybertronian Sparks have a common source.::

::Unlikely, but a similar issue with their Sparks would cover a lot of what we've seen - something that's a part of them on a core level. It would also explain why the Spikes were so twisted even before the Decepticons,:: Wheeljack responded silently, before continuing on to talk to Delta Six. "Back onto the original topic - have you ever heard of melding sparks temporarily, rather than as a permanent effect?"

"For pleasure, yes," Delta Six flicked his chin up. "Risky if they are not already spark-bound. The odds of not it coming back entirely, either forming a bond or a youngling spark, is quite high. It is common among the smaller elite units where the psychological line between individuals is already blurred. They often do not feel there is any additional risk to a spark-bond, or are bound as a unit already by intention or accident."

"We're hoping to use the Aerialbots and Protectobots as a gestalt," he explained. "The biggest problem we have with the gestalts at this point is the neural processing. The Constructicons range from bright younglings, in your terms, all the way up to near-genius levels of intelligence. Devastator, on the other hand, is basically nothing more than one giant mass of rage, after going through the Forge. Even before then, he barely rated beyond 'I move things.' He needed the group to separate in order to have the sentience to actually _design_ what he was building. We can't afford that sort of loss of intelligence. I was trying to figure out if there was some way we could basically design them to integrate into an honest Spark, when they combine, rather than a group of individuals that all need to be able to coordinate in order to keep their gestalt form functioning."

Delta Six was silent for a long moment, processing that and what he knew before flicking his chin to the left and wavering it. "That is really Mitrix's field. She's the Engineer and Scientist. I'm just a smart grunt with a talent for leadership. What I know comes from watching twenty ganon worth of birth, death and battle, and my own Awakening."

"Was the Awakening when you were 'born,' or when you were promoted to Toe'Emirc?" Wheeljack asked him respectfully.

He paused, considering the question. "It would have been my birth as a person. I had been on the battlefield for vorns already. The leap from a very smart combat robot to a person happened in an instant. It was not intentional, and it was not unique. It still happens today, though it is far more rare."

Singer finally finished her piece and set it down. "I can do what you wish, but not the way you need it done. I do understand enough of neural networking from my own body..."

"You have that look," Delta Six regarded her warily.

"Mitrix can help you correct the networking issue, but perhaps looking at it backwards would be better," Singer smiled warmly at Wheeljack. "The gestalt is the whole and the bots are the fragments. Like we have just done," she motioned to the four of them. "Four bodies, a single Spark."

"That would leave them seriously weakened," he pointed out. "Or at least be likely to, from what I imagine would happen. They wouldn't actually have a Spark of their own."

"It takes a very strong Spark," she agreed. "I know it can be done with Tezita; is done, regularly, by some. I'm not so sure about Cybertronians though. Until we both understand how our Sparks differ, I would recommend having Mitrix and Rawlind improve the neural networking across the bodies but to use what you understand. This would be a poor time to experiment on this level."

"After I'm done helping you guys - building these two shouldn't take as long as putting together the Aerialbots, and we've got until then before I'm needed," he pointed out. "Besides, it'll be good to see how you work."

Across the shuttle bay, Jazz finished gathering the materials he'd been requested to find and took the opportunity to head for the conversation that was winding down between Delta Six, Singer and Wheeljack.

"Hey guys, can'a lend a hand?" he grinned as he sat down with them.

"Or just talk," Singer chuckled as she picked up a chunk of metal that seemed to work like clay in her hands as she began to shape it.

"Yes, speak your mind Saboteur," Delta Six startled both Autobots by using Jazz's job-nickname with such respect as a title.

"Most people don't say i'quite like that," Jazz chuckled, though he did still pitch in on the assembly work. "Not complainin'," he added.

"Most people don't spend their lives depending on one," Singer smiled faintly.

"There is no better a friend to guard your six," Delta Six added. "It is a shame few among your kind realize it."

Jazz nodded, taking in their words and manner. It reminded him of the early days of the war, when he had enough teammates that missions would often mean several of them going in together, or when he'd lead a small combat force into secure territory. It made him wonder just how much of their culture was the result of a single individual's experience. They had already admitted that other Toe'Emirc had fundamentally altered their entire race's coding. It wasn't the leap it had been a few orn ago.

"Ya always had Intel in ya unit?" he asked, looking at Delta Six.

"Intel, no," Delta Six waved his chin to the left. "A Saboteur, yes."

"The difference being?" Wheeljack looked between the two Tezita.

"Intel are back at base, if not home territory. They sift data, intercept communications and such. Desk jobs. Saboteurs are field agents, the ones who got us in and out of bad places alive, killed the targets too hard for us to reach," Delta Six said simply. "You can't ask for a better six than one, or a worse enemy."

Wheeljack looked at Jazz, almost begging the other to refuse the description, but Jazz could only shrug.

"I do more spy work than assassination these days," he said instead. "Prime keeps me close."

That earned the Autobot leader a serious look from both Tezita, one the Autobots were sure wasn't an approving one, but they apparently let it go and returned to their work.

Jazz get out a slow, silent sigh through his vents that he hadn't just created an incident. "I've heard some of what you've said about Lydrom, and the shift in rank. Ezara said that rank is determined by height and mass, or at least that it is now - that's new?"

"It wasn't true in my time," Delta Six said easily. "Alpha began the trend. It is a quirk of his personality. Mitrix did much to reinforce it with her work in creating our modern society, both under him and as Toe'Emirc. By the time of Black Star Rising of the Night's Chosen, the ninth of us, it was set in the code of the entire race."

"So it's not _new_," Singer added. "But it was not always there."

"New's relative," Wheeljack chuckled. "Up until a few weeks ago, Bumblebee was new - and he's over four ganon old."

"'E's got a point," Jazz chuckled. "Did she need your help to get past her fear of the gestalt?" He asked them seriously, "or did she rewire herself?"

"A little of both," Delta Six answered thoughtfully. "I provided the statement that she could fight it, that the terror was irrational and not useful. Her need to accomplish her mission did the rest. She really would have been a spectacular Guard. That kind of strength is rare."

"And a royal pain to be a Guard for," Singer chuckled. "These two are going to get quiet a work-out in the next metacycle."

"Just what are you expecting them to do?" Jazz asked, quickly processing all he had from Ezara to work out what he could ask to fill in the blanks. As far as her Guard went, it was something she barely paid attention to. They annoyed her, but only occasionally.

"The Dart," she motioned to the one Mitrix and Rawlind were building. "Is to tackle their charge, knock them out of the danger, while the Shield," she indicated what they were working on. "Steps in the way of the blast. On Lydrom, this would be a team of at least two Darts, four Shields and five Sweeps. They are the snipers and who secure an area before their charge enters."

"On Lydrom, she wouldn't be that difficult. There would only be one person she _might_ try and take a hit for, and her E'on would never be on the battlefield. Here," Delta Six waved his chin to the left and motioned to the universe in general. "There are at least three, all of whom fight, and are on both sides of the conflict."

"Who?" Wheeljack asked before Jazz could.

"Optimus, Jazz and Skywarp," Singer answered softly. " Optimus out of loyalty, Jazz and Skywarp out of affection."

"Well, she _should_ know better than to take it for me - or for Prime - though good luck convincing her," Jazz admitted. "Skywarp's another issue, though he at least has the advantage of being able to pull himself out of trouble pretty easily. What worries me is that if they realize she'll take a hit for him - they won't hesitate to shoot _at_ him knowing they'll hit her instead," he said seriously.

Singer and Delta Six exchanged looks. A quick three-click sequence caught Mitrix and Rawlind's attention and the pair walked over for a quick contact-conference. When they left Delta Six looked to Jazz.

"They'll get one shot if they try that," Delta Six said with a dark promise in his optics. "It may not be a welcome choice, but he can survive in forced stasis until the treatment is ready if need be."

"For you and Prime," Singer waved her chin to the left a bit. "As long as she knows she can take the hit and you can't, there is little to be done to stop her. Socialized Beasts are _extremely_ protective of their weaker pack members."

"Probably the worst thrashing I've ever gotten was trying to snag a youngling Beast from its mother. I didn't realize she'd bonded to it," Delta Six said. "They don't usually, at least not so fast."

"Good to know - especially if _we_ ever have to shoot at Skywarp," Jazz frowned. "What happens in the event of a contradiction?"

"She's socialized enough to prioritize in a logical way," Delta Six said. "She's already done it, at least in theory. She has accepted that Skywarp will be damaged, so if you can manage to not shoot his head or Spark, she should let things play out the way they have so far. Between you and Prime..." he paused, working through the complex equations she'd set up for the contingency.

"She'll protect you first," Singer said quietly, startling Delta Six.

"That is not what she thinks," he countered.

"Delta, you are an exceptional tactician, but you suck when it comes to love," she smiled fondly at the old mech. "You made more of an impression on her than you think too."

He stared at her for a moment, then sat up a little straighter. "It is true," he murmured.

"What is?" Jazz prompted, hoping to be told the other half of the conversation.

Delta Six looked at him with a faint smile. "A leader is far easier to replace than the Saboteur. You are the most valuable asset on Earth."

"Oh please," Singer snorted, then looked directly at Jazz "She loves you, even if it's not the way you think about the emotion."

"Hopefully it's not too strong in the way she thinks about it either," Jazz murmured, unsettled by the implications. "Uhm... by the way, about what happened with her favorite pilot ... how strong is that, or was it just a fluke?"

"It was friendship flirting, as best I can describe it," Singer said after a bit of thought. "She likes him, but not the same way as you. She'll probably forget him when a few more Tezita are around. Right now there are so few that even accidentally understand her that she'll fixate on them. You're a social creature; so is she. She's been alone a very long time. It's left her somewhat desperate for anything even vaguely resembling friends, home and the normal things in life. She's settling down, and she'll settle more when Lyzen arrives and there are a few familiar faces around. Until then, she's just trying to cope any way she can."

"Good to know," he said, definitely relieved and understanding her reasons all too well. Long missions in enemy territory left him much the same way, and he'd never spent fourteen vorn desperate and on the run, and never 'ended' a mission so far from home and friendly faces. "Are there any of the other Deceps she's attached to?"

"She's quite fond of Ravage," Singer said after a moment. "Though she's willing to kill him in battle, unlike Skywarp. It's much like her interest in the pilot. He understands and doesn't object to her nature, so she values him. It is not the kind of attachment that is likely to hold up when she has more choices."

"The one you need to watch out for is Megatron," Delta Six spoke seriously, though his voice was low. "She doesn't _like_ him, but he has the strength and dominate nature she craves at times. On Lydrom, she had plenty of choices, _acceptable_ choices, of who to play such games with. Here, she has _one_, and it's him. She will honor her promise to Prime, but even when she made it she knew it would be a difficult one to keep."

"Honor vs. desire, honor will win out, even if it hurts," Singer agreed. "It'll put her in a mean mood that you're likely to feel the worst of."

"What'll be inf'r?" Jazz asked evenly, running over what he had survived at Decepticon hands and what he'd seen in her mind and memories. Neither were pleasant places to go.

"I'd rather not hear this," Wheeljack spoke up from where his head and shoulders inside the half-built fuselage.

Singer smiled gently and reached over to pass the basics she had to Jazz by touch.

He expected pain, violence ... something akin to an interrogation without questions or right answers. Or possibly trying to take Megatron's place, giving her what she'd missed out on. He couldn't quite decide which would be more unpleasant.

Instead he was presented with a situation that while rough, was only potentially violent, wasn't likely to be painful, and would probably give him one hell of an orgasm. At least as long as he rolled with it and let her dominate him, ravage him. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant idea.

"That's good to know," Singer said quietly.

"I'm going to assume I _don't_ want to know," Wheeljack muttered, focusing on the wiring he was putting together.

"Pro'bly not," Jazz agreed with a chuckle.

"Seems to be a recurring theme - she's got a libido beyond anybody else I've met," the engineer mused. "Common on Lydrom? Or part of the Beast thing?"

"It's more a gladiator thing, but the Beast-Spark does amplify it," Singer chuckled. "Warriors don't know when they'll die, but gladiators expect it every orn. They fight hard, play harder and enjoy every nanoklik they get to survive to the fullest."

"They're sick," Delta Six muttered.

"No more than you are," Singer countered, her voice soft and soothing. "Bloodsport or battle, you both kill for someone else."

"Never for _entertainment_," he snapped, his armor shifting in agitation.

"No, for pay," she pointed out smoothly.

"I fought..."

"You fought for your masters, then for power," Singer cut him off. "She fought for survival, then her master, then for power. You following me?"

"_She_ is a savage, undisciplined _sociopath_," Delta Six all but snarled.

Singer tipped her face slightly, considering him, and brushed a finger along Jazz's arm briefly before reaching into his subspace to pull out the glowing white knife that Ezara had given him.

Instantly Delta Six froze, his optics locked on the weapon as his body tensed in real fear, ready to bolt.

"_She_ is a young, undereducated survivor," Singer said in a quiet, even voice as she flipped the blade inward, parallel to the floor between their bodies. "Stormfire is a savage, if highly disciplined, sociopath. I will not listen to you lie about her in front of allies who do not know better."

Delta Six's optics shifted briefly from the blade up to her face. "You wouldn't."

"I put him down," Singer said simply. "What makes you think I wouldn't put you down to keep the peace? Have you forgotten what _my_ contribution to Lydrom was?"

"So how'd'ya get y'r name?" Jazz suddenly asked, trying to break up what he perceived to be a very long-standing argument before it came to blows, or worse. He would have to check in on that blade. He didn't get the impression that Delta Six was afraid of much of anything, but he was petrified from just seeing it. It might be more of a weapon than even Ezara realized.

"Depends on the generation," Delta Six answered nervously, willing to accept the distraction. "Mine is from my original designation as the squad leader of D6. I know, completely unimaginative, but it was what I'd been called my entire life before I woke up and a for many vorn afterwards, before they were all dead."

"How did the Lydrom people die out?" Optimus asked, starling Wheeljack but none of the others. He kept a careful optic on Singer as she returned the Si'Mir Blade to Jazz's subspace, much to Delta Six's relief.

"Their wars," Delta Six made a full-body ripple of armor plates in the equivalent of a shrug. "Engineered disease and chemical fire tore biological matter apart. We, their strongest non-organic creations, were left when the flames died. A few of us had become more than smart machines. We used what they left to survive, and I united the survivors to rebuilt Lydrom."

"So you were never built with the intention of being sentient?" Wheeljack asked, clearly fascinated by the idea.

"No," Delta Six waved his chin to the left. "Only a small fraction ever Awoke as I did. While I know the events and the process, I do not know the reason."

"How did you work out how to make sentient machines?" Optimus asked, just as fascinated. "I'm assuming you know how to now," he looked between the two Tezita.

"Trial and error at first," Delta Six chuckled low in his vocal processor. "Not everyone who Awoke was a soldier. Many were scientific assistants. A few of them even survived conditions long enough to make it to my base or be found by my scouts. Eventually they worked out that by putting a bit of the energy that we had that machines didn't, our Spark as you call it, into a new body, that the body would become self-aware like we are."

"How did you have enough Spark to go from the handful in your time to the thirty billion that currently exist by Ezara's count?" Wheeljack asked.

It earned him a funny look from both Tezita before Singer spoke.

"Does your Spark not grow stronger as you age and strengthen yourself?"

"Umm, no," Optimus shook his head, causing all four Tezita to exchange quick looks and, he suspected, data sets. "The Spark you are born with is the same one you die with in all but the most unusual circumstances."

"Such as yours?" Singer asked.

Optimus paused, then nodded. "In a manner of speaking, yes."

"Fascinating," Mitrix murmured as she walked over to join the conversation. A light tap on the shoulder sent Delta Six to work with Rawlind so she could stay. "It is not so with us. A newborn's Spark is small but grows quickly as it mature into an adult. It will continue to strengthen as long as the Tezita does. Many will never be very strong, but to the best knowledge of our science it is not an inherent limit. There must be the _desire_ to grow stronger, the will do to so, and the opportunity."

"Wow, wild setup man. Do'ya know where your Spark goes when ya off-line?" Jazz asked, utterly enthralled by such a culture and race that had both striking similarities and striking differences from his own. "I mean, not _yours_, but the average Tezita."

"If you have a Si'Kae, Spark-bound mate, it would go to them first. If there is not one, it will split between descendants," Singer answered easily. "If none survive, it will trace its lineage in every direction to find someone linked by Spark-giving, the closer the better; parents, grandchildren, siblings, sibling's children," she struggled to find Cybertronian equivalents and ended up using the English words as the best match in intent.

"How do you strengthen your Spark?" Optimus asked with the feeling he wouldn't like the answer, but it was something he _needed_ to understand.

"There are several ways," Singer began. "When one inherits part or all of another's Spark, the strength of yours increases by sixty to seventy percent of what was received. It's the most common method for most.

"A great deal of extra energy will convert to a small increase in Spark strength if maintained over time, with its corresponding increase in basic energy needs and shorter lifespan," she continued.

"Is there a known ratio?" Wheeljack asked.

"Every doubling of energy consumed results in a ten percent increase in strength if maintained over approximately one point two vorn," Mitrix answered. "For every ten percent increase in Spark strength, it is generally agreed that the body will burn out three percent sooner. This is true no matter the method of increase. Lifespan estimates are a subjective field, however, as so few of us die of burnout. It is based more on deterioration rates.

"Directly consuming the Spark of another will provide roughly eighty percent of the consumed Spark's power almost immediately," Mitrix concluded.

"Consuming..." Optimus repeated, grateful his battle mask reduced how visible his horrified expression was.

"Consuming," Mitrix flicked her chin up and right. "Eat. Absorb. Assimilate," she began to toss out related terms until it hit her that it wasn't a language barrier, it was the concept itself that was giving him trouble. "If you can overpower someone's Spark just before they die, you can take their power as your own," she explained more fully. "It is most common in the arenas during death-matches, and not uncommon on battlefield."

"That's why Toe'Emircs burn out so quickly," Prime concluded fairly easily as he got his reaction under control. "The tendency to absorb the power from so many Sparks, whatever the method, and the related burnout?"

"Yes," Singer flicked her chin up. "We were all strong to begin with, even before we became Toe'Emirc. The addition of so many more very strong Sparks causes the body to weaken quickly."

"Largely the opposite of what happens with us," Prime observed. "For us, strengthening the Spark in any way enhances the body as well. The Shield," he said, nodding towards the larger Guard that was being built, "will most likely attract a very strong-willed Spark to fill its needs. Of course, we rarely have a case of combining Sparks outside of the Matrix," he admitted. "A significant difference, all the same.

"You've mentioned Ezara is a Beast-Spark, so I take it there are other types?" Optimus prompted a topic he knew just enough about from Ezara, who barely cared about it, to be quite curious hearing from better educated sources.

Mitrix flicked her chin to the right. "It was a project I did under Alpha, and has been refined since. There are six primary types of Sparks for Tezita, with a seventh under debate as to whether it is a sub-type of Officer or different enough to warrant it's own type. I expect by the time Ezara is replaced, they will have their own classification. They have been becoming more and more distinct over the generations I have watched them.

"The Officer comes with talent for leadership, particularly under fire. Most are very social and good at reading people. They also have an emotional disconnect that allows them to send their friends into deadly situations and loose them on a regular basis. They will be the majority of those you will meet unless you go wandering around on Lydrom. There won't be enough of us out here to send the lower ranks for many vorn."

"What is the division in them that you spoke of?" Optimus asked, considering an entire army of mechs like those described. It wouldn't be a bad thing necessarily, but he had to wonder if they might be better off with some additional soldiers, if the division between types was as sharp as it sounded.

"SpecOp, though they have come to be called Intel in modern times," Singer chuckled low in her chest. "Intel, Saboteurs, Spies. Most are the result of mixing a Scientist and an Officer. The inquisitive, free-flowing, open and adaptive mind of a Scientist mixed with the people-reading, organizational and manipulative nature of the Officer."

"In other words, Jazz," Optimus chuckled lowly. "No offense, but I hope there aren't too many of them coming along - I'm not sure _anywhere_ is ready for that."

Mitrix laughed, a bright ripple of sound that seemed to change her entire nature for a brief moment.

"Yes," Singer was grinning, her laughter a sweet music that relaxed the entire room. "Like Jazz. Though if Lyzen's organization is up to their usual standard, her agents are already in place, ready for her arrival and the war to come, so only a few more will be coming."

"You do realize that they haven't had any reason to believe that 'here' was important at all until very recently," Optimus pointed out, a little disconcerted by the suggestion that an organization that was 'up to their standards' would routinely have an elaborate spy network established several galaxies away.

Mitrix cocked her head and considered him thoughtfully.

"Possible," she consented. "However unlikely. Lyzen would have provided the ship Rawlind forced Ezara to flee in. She knew where it would be going, even if she didn't know what would be there yet. I expect she sent scouts ahead, to make sure Ezara survived, and to be ready when the right circumstances were in place for her to wake up."

"I didn't realize that the ship's course was programmed - I thought it was largely random, beyond seeking out safe worlds," he told them. "I'm not sure if I'm reassured that they are likely here or not."

"As long as you're allies, it should be reassuring," Mitrix smiled gently at him. "They are on your side, after all."

"You're far more comfortable with special op's than I am," Optimus chuckled lowly. "Particularly ones you're not keeping an eye on. They mean well, but there are times when the ripples they're setting up are a little too difficult to make out, particularly when a large number of them are working together. Especially when they decide their superiors _shouldn't_ know what they're up to. I've had to wonder, from time to time, about some of mine."

"Mirage ain't goin' anywhere, Prime," Jazz promised. "E'en if it seems like he's thinkin' 'bout it."

"We trust the Si'Mir, our SpecOp CO," Mitrix rippled her body in a shrug. "But we do have a _very_ different culture as well," she pointed out.

"We've never pretended they weren't the most dangerous people on the planet," Singer added quietly. "Or that we rule by the Si'Mir's grace. It cultivated the peace we have within the ranks."

"I understand," Optimus nodded. "So what are the other types of Sparks?" He asked, looking to move to a more comfortable topic that would cause less friction. He didn't need it right now, not with the majority of the audience on the opposing side.

"The Warrior is what the bulk of the military is made up of," Mitrix picked up without missing a beat. "They live to fight and are inherently disciplined loyal to the command structure and their leader. While most are not stupid, brilliance is also rare. They can be trained to think for themselves in combat to a limited degree, but their function is to follow orders, not to give them. Out of combat they are more normal."

"How does the breakdown work between soldiers and officers, in terms of skill?" Optimus asked them.

"In combat or in general?" Mitrix asked.

"Both, I suppose, though I'd been thinking mostly in combat. You said that mostly officers would be coming early on; it seems that if there's likely to be a large battle, you'd want more soldiers than officers, if there's a significant split in combat ability."

"Warriors have a better grasp of fighting by their nature, but Officers have much better training," Mitrix explain.

"The real reason amounts to the fact that the hazards are low and with only a thousand positions available for the first mission and ten billion military trying for it..." Singer chuckled.

"The thought of being able to _afford_ to risk a thousand of your best officers is still mind-blowing," Optimus said, shaking his head slightly. "Why don't we move on to the next ones," he suggested.

"Given we loose sixty percent of the entire military each revolution, a thousand isn't much to worry about," Mitrix said. "Moving on. The Supporter, or Washout if you are being derogatory, are military bred but don't have the fire in them to fight and aren't anything else. They're the equivalent of a Civilian, but born into the Military.

"Most are record-keepers, cooks, cleaners and the like. The most important among them is the Toe'Emirc's Aunu'e'tuk, the Keeper of Dates. It is not unfair to say that he is the most important individual on Lydrom, right after the Si'Mir, though it's rarely stated that way. Short of the Si'Mir, he knows the most about what everyone of any importance is doing at any time, where they have been and where they will be in the future."

"Warriors may not think much of them, but most Officers understand their value to keeping things working smoothly," Singer added.

"How early on are the Sparks identified, by type?" Optimus asked, considering it.

"At birth, at the latest," Mitrix said. "At least as long as someone who knows how checks it out. Most even half-trained can tell within seconds of the merge, and all who contributed can tell the moment of the merge."

"So you don't have supposed warriors realizing too late that they're not cut out for it," he nodded slightly. "I'm sorry to have interrupted you, I'll try to hold most of my questions for later, though I do have some in mind."

"It can happen, though it is usually after suffering massive damage," Mitrix smiled at him. "Scientists are the seekers of knowledge, inventors, artists. The creators of things; beautiful, function and intellectual. Singer and I are among the most famous Scientists, though I would hesitate to claim to be the most important."

"That would depend on what you were looking at," Singer challenged her lightly. "For forces that shaped science, the Tezita and Lydrom itself, it would be difficult to argue we are not. Now, that neither of us were the _brightest_ minds of our generations, much less history, I would agree we are not."

"Very true," Mitrix consented before continuing with her mini-lecture. "Beast-Sparks are tied directly into the cycle of life and death that was the natural order of things in the biological world that Lydrom once was. They tend to be unsophisticated, violent and driven by the need to eat, breed and protect their territory and 'pack'. They are easy to predict and control if you understand them, though the difficulty most Tezita have in doing so has lead to a harsher reputation for being uncontrollable savages and monsters than they deserve. Some are, but most are like Ezara, or at least capable of being socialized near her level if you can catch and convince them that they want to please you."

"Easiest to do when you catch them young," Singer added, most of her attention on her work shaping the Shield's other wing. "Socializing is possible with only some adults."

"Civilians are pretty much everything that doesn't fall in the above," Mitrix rippled her body in a shrug.

"Where do ya Engineers come from?" Jazz asked.

"They're Scientists," Mitrix told him.

"And medics?" Wheeljack brought his head out of the fuselage long enough to ask.

"Scientists, though some Officers and Intel are trained as such on rare occasions," Mitrix responded.

"It makes sense, really - it's largely where ours came from, though the Sparks don't really differ," Optimus nodded. "Do your support personnel have the same need for battle that your military do?"

"No," she waved her chin vehemently to the left. "That's what makes them Support. They were born military, with no taste for combat. Civvies in a fancy shell, really."

"Smart, organized, obedient civvies," Singer added with a bit of a smirk for her predecessor.

"Well, yes, there is that," Mitrix relented.

"Would it be advisable - or desirable, for that matter - to consider integrating some of your Support personnel into Cybertron's culture, after the civil war is over?" Optimus asked carefully. "From your perspective as well. I don't know how the percentage breaks down; if you have enough, too many, too few, or any other issues there."

"Considering the state of things when we left, none of us can say until Lyzen gets here with the current personnel reports," Mitrix answered thoughtfully. "We've always found something for everyone to do, and someone to do what needs done. What would they do on Cybertron? Support _do_ need duties and a structured command to do well. They don't handle idle time on shift that well."

"Logistics and energy distribution, coordination of rebuilding efforts, assisting with setup of the new energy capture system - we have engineers of our own who would be capable of handling much of it, but reigning in engineers with that much work to do can take a certain delicate hand and expertise that's entirely different from working with the military," he explained, and received understanding and sympathetic looks from both femmes.

"It probably wouldn't take many of them," he continued, still thinking as he went, "but some would be helpful. We haven't had the sort of numbers to coordinate that made logistics experts actually necessary before, but with the potential for expansion after we install the solar system it's likely to happen very quickly. We've seen on Earth what can happen when there's a sudden influx of wealth and capacity into a system that's been relatively stagnant for much of living memory; somebody with the ability to guide the growth would be welcome." As he explained his thoughts, he tried to keep back the sense of relief - and a little concern - at the fact that he was actually beginning to be able to plan for an "after the war" beyond the most abstract terms.

"Whether they settle or not may be an issue to cover with volunteers for such an assignment," Mitrix said thoughtfully. "Lydrom should be rebuilt and stable by now, so I am sure we could spare enough for your needs. It would be good to discuss this with Lyzen, Tonen and some of the other command staff when they arrive."

"How many Cybertronians are there, and what is the full capacity of your territories?" Rawlind asked as he and Delta Six walked over to join in a conversation that had become more important than building for a time.

Optimus had to think about it, and conferred by radio with Magus before he answered. "Excluding the Decepticons, there are perhaps a fifty thousand alive. The planet's capacity..." he cast a look at Alpha Trion for help and received it. "Perhaps a billion," he said, less than certain on any level of the numbers.

The four Toe'Emircs exchanged looks.

"I believe the real challenge will be to keep our numbers low enough," Rawlind chuckled lightly. "Cybertron is _your_ world, even if we help rebuild it."

Singer paused in her work and leaned back slightly without loosing her balance somehow. "As long as we are discussing settling Tezita on Cybertron, what about Civvies?" she asked, still rolling an idea around in her processors. "Granted, few have a strong skill base, but when properly supervised, they will work hard and do simple jobs such as construction well. They are frequently well-suited for the kind of rebuilding you have a great deal of ahead of you. Cybertron would be a distinct improvement for many of them, and a closer social match than military."

"I wouldn't object, if they wanted to come," Optimus said easily. "Though, obviously, there would be some difficulty in the fact that they wouldn't have as much contact with Lydrom any more ... do you need some source for Sparks, or are they all produced through melding?"

"Civvies reproduce the same way military do," Singer assured him. "The primary difference is the material that makes up their first shell. Civvies are inserted into a robotic body, much like yours. Military are placed in a container of nanites and form their body from them. The Spark part o f it is the same however. It's the only real proof we're still the same species."

"Optimus, if I may?" Ultra Magnus said politely, approaching his commander. "We have some information on the Decepticon location; we should start planning ahead, for when we have the new mechs available."

"Of course," Optimus nodded. "If you'll excuse me," he said respectfully to the four Toe'Emircs, turning to follow Magnus off while Mitrix and Rawlind went back to work on the Dart.

"Would Ezara know how t'contact the intel network that's probably around here?" Jazz asked them.

"No," Singer flicked her chin left slightly. "They'll do what they can to keep her alive and safe, but they aren't under her command. She wouldn't know it even if she met one."

"Do'ya have any ideas where's they'd be set up? On Earth, Cybertron, other worlds around here?" He pressed, hoping to get some feel of where he could start looking. "It would be good ta start coordinating ... an' I'll admit, I'm a little disturbed that I wouldn't know about a group as different as the Tezita already integrated throughout Cybertron."

"Saboteur," Singer smiled at him gently and reached over to touch his arm with a comforting ripple of energy. "That is what they _do_. But to answer your question. I am sure they are here on Cybertron and on Earth, at a minimum. I expect they will be Autobot, Decepticon and Neutrals here. On Earth, they'd do their best to integrate into the dominant human cultures to understand them and world politics. If they have the numbers and time, at least a couple would maneuver into positions of moderate power.

"If I understand Lyzen, and I do, her goal is to have enough information and local contacts to do whatever had to be done to protect Ezara, preferably without anyone's knowledge that Lydrom is behind it, even to her. You aren't looking for spies, not the kind you're used to at least. Not like you. They'd be normal folks, with normal lives, just living and watching and learning and waiting until they are needed. They are hard to spot because they don't do anything suspicious. They aren't trying to do anything outside the norm."

"Just how capable of blending in would they be, on a world with primarily biological life? Especially given how hard it was to get Ezara to acknowledge that humans actually are intelligent life?" He asked them.

"That I am not entirely sure of," Singer admitted as she worked. "At least as good as you are, possibly better. They are less than forthcoming with their full capabilities, even to those close to them."

"Singer's Si'Kae was the Si'Mir," Delta Six spoke up.

"Noted," he nodded slightly. "What is it 'bout that knife Ezara gave me that bothers you all?" He asked them. If it was connected to one of the others, it would be good to know before he ended up doing something he shouldn't.

"A Si'Mir Blade," Singer flicked her chin up slightly. "It is a mark of rank. On Lydrom it will give you unquestioned access anywhere unless the Si'Mir stops you herself. It is the fastest way to kill a Tezita, even one as powerful as we are."

"Do you mind if I ask how it works, or should I leave that for more private time?" He asked, glancing around at the others who were listening.

"There is little to using it," she gave him a slight, knowing smile. "It was tied to your systems when we made it. There is very little chance anyone but you, Ezara and myself could activate it. Drive it into anything with an electrical system, mechanical or biological, and it will be shorted and drained fully."

"So it's weaponizin' your energy absorption," he nodded slightly. "Makes sense to me."

Singer considered him, seemingly about to speak, but apparently thought better of it. "Thank you," she inclined her head to him slightly.

"It's her weapon," Delta Six spoke quietly, the edge of unease back in his voice. "The Si'Mir was deadly before. She made her all but invulnerable."

"You're just sour because you never bonded," Singer told him before looking at Jazz. "It's a very strong drive, to avoid the pain of a Si'Kae's death. Mine just happened to be an assassin when I was most concerned about her survival."

"And she's a crystal shaper," Delta Six commented without looking up.

Jazz glanced between them, uncertain as to the importance of either of their training.

"He means that I'm very good at creating whatever I set my mind to," Singer explained. "I set my mind to making something that would keep her safe. It turned out to be a weapon too dangerous to be put into common use. Until a little while ago, only one had ever been made."

"Wow," Jazz murmured, both baffled and flattered to be given such an item ... and more than a little concerned. "If'ya don't mind, why did you bond to the Si'Mir?"

"I didn't," she chuckled. "No more than she bonded to the Toe'Emirc. We met when I was a performer and she was a young officer. Neither of us had ambitions towards leadership. She wasn't even SpecOps yet, and I was still a Civvie."

Jazz blinked, surprised before he realized that he shouldn't be. "How many of ya were Civvies first?"

"I was the first," Singer said. "The one who proved that it could happen. Quicksilver is the only other, though she'd been upgraded to military long before she became Toe'Emirc. Something I hadn't been."

"I was under the impression Ezara was a Civvie," Jazz said.

"That, like so much about her, is a bit more complicated. It's also not my story to tell," she sidestepped further explanation. "I would prefer you didn't bring it up with her. Let Rawlind or Lyzen explain in their time."

"How important is it, for the Toe'Emirc to have an E'on? It seems that Ezara really _isn't_ interested in having one, but she's convinced that it's necessary," he explained.

"The civilians need someone to voice their needs," Singer explained. "Some of us can balance the military and civilian worlds on our own, or at least fully listen to advisors that can't influence us as a Si'Kae can. She's not one of them."

"It sounded like most of the candidates for E'on were going to be military, from what I remember," Jazz frowned a bit. "Is that normal?"

"They aren't," Singer flicked her chin left. "Two are Civvies and the third was raised by them."

"Sorry, I'd thought they all sounded like military... or do the different sparks show up in both types?" He asked, realizing where his confusion was.

"Civilian Sparks are never military, but the every Spark type does appear in the civilian population," she explained easily. "I'm a Scientist and I was born a Civvie."

"Understood," he nodded. "At least closer to it," he chuckled. "Will she be restricted to only one partner after she bonds?" He asked, fairly certain that would be a major breaking point for her.

"That is between them," Singer smiled faintly at him. "I can not imagine that Lyzen would suggest anyone who would think to have her ignore such a fundamental part of her nature. It is not in Lydrom's best interests to have a Toe'Emirc that is constantly in conflict with their E'on, or that is trying to ignore their own basic needs. I may question her methods on occasion, but I haven't heard of anyone who questioned her loyalty to Lydrom."

"I've got no idea what's expected of a Si'Kae, so I figured I'd ask," he chuckled. "She isn't exactly the monogamous sort. Mind if I ask a more sensitive question?"

"You may ask," Singer said agreeably. "I make no promise I will answer."

"Have you always predeceased your Si'Kae's? If not, I'm wondering why I haven't heard about any of them, since their Sparks would have joined with yours, at least in part."

"It normally would, but as you already know, normal is not something Toe'Emirc are," she smiled sadly. "Three were bonded strongly enough to their Si'Kae to join us. The others passed their power elsewhere. They die as everyone else does," pain began to creep into her voice. "Power is passed on, some portion of their knowledge, but not _them_. I'll always carry a part of Menisa with me, but it is not like what we are to each other, alive but for the body. It's just their energy and some memories; a reminder that it is worth the pain of loss and their life accomplished something."

"Sorry f'r bringin' it up for you," Jazz said sincerely. "I sh'd pro'ly let you get back to work," he offered, giving her a chance to break off the conversation if she wanted to.

"Where did I leave off?" Delta Six glanced at Singer.

"Name origins. Tyris," she answered quietly.

He flicked his chin up. "My successor, Tyris, chose his name from the history of the Lydrom. It was the name of a famous General that brought his clan from ruins to greatness in the time of stone weapons. He followed his namesake well in building up our population and rebuilding the ruins of Lydrom into the core of our world today.

"Nildrin of the Vigath took his name from a story that was written a generation before their last war," he continued. "One of the lead characters in a fictional world where people bonded with beasts with a tie stronger than the Si'Kae one. As fantastic as the story is, Nildrin lived up to it in many ways. His rule was the first under the system we use today, and the beginning of the military/civilian division that Alpha locked in place."

"What was it before?" Jazz asked.

"The Toe'Emirc ruled alone, in the clean military structure I existed under," Delta Six explained and Jazz nodded.

"Alpha ... is Alpha," Delta Six rippled his body plates in a shrug. "Strong, organized, with little tolerance for failure or weakness of any kind but an almost Beast-level drive to increase our numbers. He was very much what we needed at the time.

"Mitrix Alitron of Eti," he motioned towards her with his chin. "Was the first non-Officer Spark to become Toe'Emirc. Her reign is considered the beginning of the modern age, and it earned her Si'Kae and rule a new name. What began as the Ne'ona became Unity near the end of her time. She did more to change our world and the Tezita than anyone before or since."

"Though history may consider Ezara as revolutionary," Singer added.

"What did she change?" Jazz asked, wondering at the mixture of respect and annoyance in their tone.

The Tezita glanced at each other. Singer chuckled before answering.

"She defined the Spark-types. She created the nanite-tech bodies. She solidified the balance the government has today; the rights of each rank and type, the duties of each, codified and standardized law and punishment across rank and class. Between her and Alpha they formalized the rules of the challenge, the civil war, over who would become Toe'Emirc next," she paused then looked over at the other pair. "Hey Mitrix, what else did you get up to?"

Mitrix paused in what she was doing and considered the question.

"I designed and implemented the power grid of Lydrom," she said with carefully controlled pride. "Added thirty-eight layers to our world, more than anyone else."

"Why do most have a faction designation but a few do not?" Wheeljack glanced at Singer.

"The 'faction' designation is the linage of the E'on," she smiled. "No E'on, no 'of the' added to our name."

"Why wouldn't you have an E'on?" Jazz asked.

"The idea hadn't been formed in my time. It was Nildrin who did it first," Delta Six explained. "Singer didn't need one, and Alpha refused the idea as beneath him. He had a co-ruler and Si'Kae, but she wasn't a civvie."

"Singer already had a Si'Kae," she corrected him sharply.

"You still didn't need one," he countered with a near-smirk and took an energon cube when one of Ultra Magnus' team came around with one for each of them. He took a sip and gagged involuntarily, spitting the bulk of the mouthful back out.

"Oh for Eno'ko's sake," Singer groaned and grabbed at the cube.

"Do _not_ look at me that way," Delta Six growled at her, though he let go when she grabbed his ration.

"You are pathetic sometimes," Singer grumbled as she made quick work of both cubes. Though she kept far better control of her reaction, Jazz still saw the grimace flicker across her face.

Jazz took a sip. It was standard formula.

"Anything less than quad-proof tastes like swamp water according to him," Singer commented. "It's all he ever got used to. I was fortunate enough to usually have refined, just not as strong."

Singer grabbed a cube out of subspace, took a small sip that she held and swished around her mouth for a long time and passed the still-mostly-full cube over to Delta Six, who did the same, though he took a larger drink. It was back in their subspace a moment later.

"I absolutely love that trick," Singer almost purred at Jazz as she formed and tossed a small ball of almost glowing nanites to Delta Six, who absorbed them, tossed a mass back. "I think that alone may have been worth the trip."

"I'm glad some folks think so," Delta Six muttered.

"Do you know what happens when a civilian and military create a youngling?" Jazz asked, relieved that Singer seemed to have recovered.

"The same as any other pairing, except that it will almost never produce a Civilian Spark," Singer said.

"What are the Spark-types of the other Toe'Emircs?" Wheeljack asked as he finished the first stage of wiring the Shield.

"Most are Officers. Delta Six, Tyris, Alpha, Black Star Rising, Dilviar, Nildrin, Tander, Lodin, Flash, Sandrcrest, Parenteen and Pyre.

"Stormfire is the only Warrior.

"Mitrix, Listin Gray, Ice, Qucksilver, Rawlind and myself are Scientists, and Ezara is a Beast," she finished the list. "Jazz, would you humor an old weaponsmith?" Singer abruptly asked when they finished attaching the wings to the fuselage.

"Sure, if ah can," he agreed without hesitation in his voice, though he had some in his processors.

"Test the blade we made for you," she smiled almost shyly.

"Against?" He asked, looking around for a good subject that wasn't going to be raw materials - and really hoping they wouldn't suggest one that was alive, unless a patrol came over.

"Physics," she chuckled lightly. "The balance and feel. It should be an extension of yourself, fit your hand perfectly and balance without trying."

"I thought you meant to see how much damage it did," he chuckled, retrieving it from subspace. "You can turn this thing off, right?" He asked them, considering it. If there _was_ an accident, he wanted to minimize the damage it would do.

"Focus on it," she said instead. "Will it to be neutral."

He did so, and the blade dimmed. He nodded slightly, flipping it in the air. He hadn't used a blade in vorn.

"Thanks - I don't expect anything to go wrong, but I'd rather not grab the wrong end of this thing," he chuckled lowly, going through a brief kata once he had some space, mostly a series of short stabs into unseen foes at various angles. It was clearly a defensive stance - if anything held him back, it was the size and bulk of his body, compared to Ezara's, though he moved well despite it.

He could feel Singer's optics on him, the intense judgment he hadn't felt since Whiplash had decided that he couldn't teach Jazz anything more about knife fighting.

"Still," her voice was a quiet command and only reinforced the image of a teacher judging a student.

Jazz complied almost instantly and looked over as she walked up to him. Her voice pitched nearly super-sonic, a tone that vibrated the weapon in his hand. He watched silently as she shaped it with her fingers, shortening the length a bit and bringing a bit of mass towards the hilt.

"How does the grip feel?" she asked.

"Good," he concluded after a moment. "Just not built the way you guys are," he admitted.

"Perfect is the minimum accepted," Singer's fingers slid along his, and the hilt vibrated lightly in his grip and softened, conforming to his hand. As fascinating as it was, what he felt of her touch was unsettling as well. He doubted most would recognize the desire behind her shields, but he'd been the focus of Ezara's enough to pay attention to the particular humm in her energy field after she'd pinned him to the wall in a hallway of the Ark and dragged all sorts of embarrassing sounds from him. At least according to Mirage. To this orn Jazz wasn't sure whether he was embarrassed that it had happened, or grateful that it was one of his own that was first to see, and made sure no one else did.

::Not a good time,:: he pointed out silently, hoping she'd take the rejection well as he tested the new grip.

He felt her startle, though she didn't physically react. ::I'm very sorry, Jazz. It was not my intent, only memories. It has been a very long time.:: "Does it feel like anything less than an extension of yourself?"

"Not really," he said. "Nothing that can be improved mechanically, at least - the rest of it will be getting used to using a blade again."

"When we return to the Ark, I will teach you what I can of the finer points of it's use," Singer smiled at him with just a hint of sadness. "It will save your Spark in a bad situation."

"Thanks for the offer," he smiled, returning the blade to subspace. "It'll come in handy, I'm sure."

"Given your position, I expect so, whether defensive or offensive," Singer inclined her head before meeting his optics and placing a strong hand on his shoulder. "May it protect you and yours for times to come," she said almost formally.

"Thank you," he said, inclining his head towards her respectfully.


	18. Birth of a Bot, or Twelve

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Jazz/Ezara  
_Rating_:  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary_: Optimus activates two gestalts and the new hybrid fighters, one of whom promptly steals the show while her sister watches quietly.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 18: Birth of a Bot, or Twelve**

* * *

Optimus Prime paused at the entrance to the chamber that held Vector Sigma. The large round computer core was sitting in its place on the floor, waiting for the Key to activate it. Much of the army that had gathered to help but the twelve new bots about to wake up had gone back to their various bases, leaving only his crew, Ultra Magnus, Grinder and Alpha Trion.

He cast a look at his elder, who smiled and waved him forward. "You are Prime, Optimus. It is your honor now."

Optimus nodded and inserted the key into the sphere, all too aware that he had four Toe'Emirc absolutely fixated on him and what was going on.

He stepped back as the sphere began to glow and rose into the air.

"I am Vector Sigma. Before Cybertron was, I was. Who reactivates me?" it's booming voice demanded.

"I, Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots."

"Why are you here?"

"To give life to these machines," he responded, motioning to the five aircraft designed as their first team, and hopefully their first gestalt.

"Present them to me," the computer of Cybertron ordered.

"Vector Sigma. Give these machines personality worthy of him who created me. Let them think for themselves, to grow in knowledge and wisdom and let them always value freedom and life, wherever they find it. Let the Aerialbots be a team as no other."

Bolts of lighting emanated from the computer core and hit each of the five jets, lighting them up.

"Personality programming completed," Vector Sigma reported and settled back in its cradle.

"Welcome to the Autobot team. I am Optimus Prime and we welcome you, Aerialbots," he stated.

"Uh, hi. I used to be a courier ship, but now I think I'm Silverbolt," the largest of them, based on a concord jet, answered first.

"And I'm Air Raid," the F-15 Eagle spoke up next. "Ya got something for me to fly circles around?"

"Geeze, what is this place, who are you guys?" the F-14 Phantom II asked, looking around.

Optimus turned to him. "Who are you?"

"Oh, right. I'm Fireflight," he said with a bashful look.

"I'm Skydive," the F-16 Fighting Falcon, the only one of the group that wasn't red and white, grinned.

"I'm Slingshot. I used to be a speed shuttle. Now I'm the fastest, smartest, hottest jet you ever saw," AV-8B Harrier II bragged.

"Bring the cars forward," Optimus instructed them, motioning to the five Protectobots. When they are in place, Optimus nodded, turning to Vector Sigma and activated the Key again.

"I am Vector Sigma. Before Cybertron was, I was. Who reactivates me?"

"I, Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots," he began the ritual again.

"Why are you here?"

"To give life to these machines."

"Present them to me."

"Vector Sigma. Give these machines personality worthy of him who created me. Let them think for themselves, to grow in knowledge and wisdom and let them always value freedom and life, wherever they find it. Let the Protectobots be a team as no other."

Bolts of lighting emanated from the computer core and hit each of the five rescue vehicles, lighting them up.

"Personality programming completed," Vector Sigma reported and settled back in its cradle.

"Welcome to the Autobot team. I am Optimus Prime and we welcome you, Protectobots," he greeted the team.

"Hi. I'm Hot Spot. Rust never sleeps and neither do I," the fire engine grinned.

"Call me Blades. War is a dirty game... and I'm a dirty player!" the Huey grinned.

"I'd be Streetwise," the Nissan 300ZX police car grinned at Jazz. "I think my Captain's going to wish I was on your team."

"Who knows, ya may be," Jazz laughed easily at the boastful flirt.

"The name's Groove. War is always a problem, never a solution. I'm here to be part of the solution," the Honda Goldwing GL1200 saluted Optimus.

"Call me First Aid. An ounce of maintenance is worth a pound of cure, and I'm your mech to do the maintenance. I've got so many upgrade ideas..." the ambulance spoke up, only drifting off when Wheeljack laughed and clapped his shoulder.

"I think we are going to be _good_ friends," Wheeljack's vocal indicators flashed brightly in amusement.

"We are in so much trouble," Hoist facepalmed with a groan.

Optimus nodded and turned to Delta Six. "Is there anything you wish to be said about your pair?"

The ancient Tezita considered the question thoughtfully and flicked his chin up. "Give these machines sister personalities worthy of their title as Guards. Let them think for themselves, work as a unit and do what they must do without hesitation."

"Very well," Optimus Prime turned and activated Vector Sigma a final time.

"I am Vector Sigma. Before Cybertron was, I was. Who reactivates me?"

"I, Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots," he said for the third time in a joor.

"Why are you here?"

"To give life to these machines," he motioned to the final two aircraft, both colored matte black and unmarked.

"Present them to me."

"Vector Sigma. Give these machines sister personalities worthy of him who created me and their title as Air Guards. Let them think for themselves, work as a unit and do what they must do without hesitation. Let them grow in knowledge and wisdom and let them always value freedom and life, wherever they find it."

Bolts of lighting emanated from the computer core and hit the two radically different fighters, lighting them up.

"Personality programming completed," Vector Sigma reported and settled back in its cradle for the final time that orn.

Optimus watched as the pair transformed, privately pleased that they bore the Autobot insignia, though curious that the insignia were on their wings, like the Seekers, not the chest, as the other Autobot fliers.

He took note the sleek, decidedly feminine lines of the smaller one, only an optic taller than Jazz, and the cocky, sultry stance she chose as she took in all the bots around her from behind a slightly reflective black visor. A matte black battle mask hid the rest of her expression, but he had no doubt she was sizing everyone up and taking note that she and her sister were the only femmes present. After a moment she retracted both visor and battle mask and allowed them to see full lips, bright white optics and a playful, opportunistic expression.

Her partner stood ramrod strait, her wings swiveled vertical and flush against her back so they were nearly undetectable. Every inch of her echoed quiet intimidation, and she made good use of being the tallest one in the room for it. She had the same low-gloss visor and battle mask as her partner, but didn't seem inclined to retract them. Her attention went from Prime, to Magnus, and locked on Jazz briefly before settling squarely on Rawlind and staying there as she made a subtle movement to place herself between Prime and the Tezita.

Optimus gathered his focus from seeing females born for the first time and spoke, bringing their attention to him. "Welcome to the Autobot team. I am Optimus Prime and we welcome you, Air Guard. What are your names?"

"I'm Whippoorwill," the smaller one, the Dart, spoke with a sweet, friendly voice that boarded on playful.

He was sure she'd be as social as Jazz, and just as difficult to control when she put her mind to something. He wanted to think she was flighty, it was the manner she was giving off, but he'd spent too much time in close proximity to Jazz and Bumblebee to buy it just yet.

"The silent one is Skjöldur," she continued, straitening and becoming more serious. "Where is your Guard, Sir?"

Optimus looked surprised for a moment. "I never had one," he told her, watching with real curiosity as horror flickered across Whippoorwill's expressive features and the way Skjöldur stiffened. "Until the Lydrom High Guard arrives, you are assigned to protect the Toe'Emirc of Lydrom," he motioned to the four that had gathered together.

"But _Sir_!" Whippoorwill gasped. "As Prime..."

"You are to follow my orders," he told her firmly, paying careful attention to her reaction to orders she objected to.

"Yes, Sir," she saluted him sharply and walked over to Delta Six, pausing when the four bodies became one in his form. She cocked her head, took it in, and finished walking to him.

"Technically, you are to guard Ezara Onyan'a of the Vistra, the nineteenth Toe'Emirc," Delta Six told them as he returned Whippoorwill's salute. "She can explain this on the way to Earth. I'm here to do the field promotion so you can do the job."

Whippoorwill nodded and with no apparent signal Skjöldur joined her, standing before Delta Six with a military bearing few had so young.

"Present your wings," he focused on Skjöldur as he pulled a small container from subspace. She did as ordered, without question or fear, and slid her wings out. He dipped a finger into the container and it came out a vivid grass green. With it he drew a circle on the underside of her left wing, two thirds out to the end, then three dashes barely connected to form a stylized lightning bolt of sorts.

He repeated it on her right wing, then the topside of both wings, and subspaced the paint as he walked around to stand at arm's length in front of her, his gaze unflinching as he looked up to met her almost completely concealed face.

"Welcome to the Lydrom Air Guard, Skjöldur," he said formally.

Skjöldur simply saluted him, then startled slightly.

"Data download when I painted you. Everything you'll need to protect her," Delta Six explained, and accepted her slight nod before walking over to Whippoorwill and painted her wings with the same symbol.

"Welcome to the Lydrom Air Guard, Whippoorwill," he said formally.

"Thank you, Toe'Emirc Delta Six," she saluted him sharply with her left arm across her chest as the Lydrom did, rather than her right hand at forty-five degrees across her helm-line in the Cybertron way.

"Come back to my base for a while," Ultra Magnus suggested to Optimus Prime. "We'll have a fight to get such a large group back to Earth. A few joor to rest, regroup and plan will be worth it. Those two could use some time to connect as a team, as well."

"Agreed," Optimus nodded. "Transform and roll out!" he ordered, catching everyone's attention and prompting most to comply.

"We need more headroom to fly, Sir," Whippoorwill spoke up for all the fliers.

"I'm not sure we can fly that slow," Air Raid added.

"I'll show you how to keep pace with a convoy," Whippoorwill told him. "Horizontal or vertical space, if not both, is needed for it."

"Then we'll roll slow and you walk until there is space," Optimus told them, noting that it was now Ezara standing in front of Whippoorwill and Skjöldur, and she looked anything but pleased at the way her new Guard was eyeing her. Still, she remained in base mode and walked with the other fliers as the group moved out. She could have made it far more difficult for them if she'd chosen to.

He kept his sensors on them, quietly pleased that Ezara chose to walk next to him. Whippoorwill walked a little in front of her, her visor and battle mask still retracted and her expression bordering on wonder as she almost skipped forwards, backwards and sideways with equal ease to take in everything and everyone. It was entirely too reminiscent of Bumblebee on an energon buzz; a pleasant enough personality as long as you didn't want _quiet_, but tiring at times just to watch.

Skjöldur walked stoically, silent and stern, a bit behind and to Ezara's left, away from him. Her visor and battle mask were in place, making it nearly impossible to work out just where she was looking, but he was sure the big femme was just as aware of her surroundings as her partner. If there were ever two more opposite siblings, he couldn't think of it.

He only had only a vague knowledge of the tradition that had existed for every Prime but him. It had never concerned him. He gathered good mechs he trusted around him and went onto the front lines with them. His rule was not one for ceremony, or for those who would die to protect him from a blast he could take. It would be interesting to watch them integrate into the Ark's population in the next metacycle.

"Jazz!" Whippoorwill grinned widely and twisted to walk backwards as the Porsche rolled up and transformed to walk with them. "SpecOps CO and the Prime's T.I.C., right?"

"Guilty," he chuckled lowly. "Also pretty close t'Ezara, right now a'least. So I figured I should try an' get in good early on," he grinned at her easy, friendly laugh.

"Close as in I _will_ chase you from the room sometimes," Ezara said with a friendly smile and a warning tone. "You don't get to watch _everything_ I do."

"Just be near enough to protect you if need be," Whippoorwill inclined her head in acceptance.

"You two _do_ realize I could pound both of you into scrap," Ezara grumbled good-naturedly even as she slipped her hand into Jazz's, palm to palm and entwined their fingers. "And _he_ is..."

"Oh, we know, Ma'am," Whippoorwill nodded easily, her voice soothing with it's hit of 'I don't like this any more than you do' tone. "From the download Delta Six gave us and what we were born with, we'd be more effective protecting the Prime. Orders are orders," she shrugged her acceptance of it.

"Your orders will stand until her own Guard arrives," Prime pointed out from where he was rolling along only a few feet away. "I'm quite capable of taking care of myself as well."

"Yes, Sir." Whippoorwill twisted her next step to face him, a move that made most of the bots who saw it take note of her coordinated grace. Her voice contained her full confidence in her words. "All Primes can. Six are still dead; all killed."

"I understand that your purpose is to be protectors, but remember that we still need to be able to do our jobs as well," he said more gently. "You feel ... familiar, somehow," he added.

"Yes, Sir. I'm not surprised, Sir," she responded, something uneasy in her voice and a subtle shift in her body language spoke of immense guilt and pain. "Not everyone sent to the Well of Allsparks can accept their fate," her voice dropped to an agony-laced whisper. "If you give Primus enough discomfort with your restlessness, He will spit you out if given the opportunity."

"You fell early in the War," he guessed, stating it as much as asking, apology in his voice. "I'm sorry. Was it both of you?" He asked her as gently as he could.

"Very early, Sir," she nodded as she made the visible effort to pull herself out of the pit of her final memories. "Yes, we were both killed in the same attack on Iacon. Three others from our unit are still in there. We were chosen as the best matches for the bodies provided and the call you made, Sir."

"Do they _want_ out the way the two of you did?" He asked them, digesting this. He'd known that they all returned to Primus, but the idea that they retained enough sense of self to leave again was new to him. At least outside of the Primes, and the Matrix was largely the reason for that.

"The five of us are the ones with the will and desire to retain ourselves in there, Sir," she answered. "Yes, Windsong, Crashcourse and Noitefel want to serve again. The others of our unit accepted their deaths eventually."

"If we have the chance, we may be able to build new bodies for them as well," he told them. "There's certainly no reason to deny them the chance to rejoin the fight."

There was no missing just how much it elated both femmes. Even the stoic Skjöldur made an excited, happy sound that caused Whippoorwill to grin up at her.

"Thank you, Sir," Whippoorwill spoke for them both. "I was going to put a formal request when we reached Earth."

"Wait," Ultra Magnus' suspicions suddenly clicked very firmly into place. "Skjöldur, Whippoorwill, Windsong, Crashcourse, Noitefel ... those were five of Sentinel Prime's Guard," he tried not to gasp.

The look Whippoorwill gave him was deceptively mild. "Yes. We watched him go grey before we bled out, saw Skyracer escape with the Matrix of Leadership," her voice lost all of her natural buoyant energy. "He joined us shortly after in the Well of Allsparks, but he'd done what he needed to and faded into the pool not long after. Those who died before Prime had little resistance to being absorbed either. The five of us ... we couldn't. The more we learned about events from the newly dead over the vorns the more we were determined to escape."

"You should never have had to," Prime muttered, more to himself than anybody else. "Iacon should never have happened."

"No, it shouldn't have," Whippoorwill agreed quietly. "We knew what he was doing. Politics got in the way of planetary safety. The ability and opportunity to stop it before it got going was there," she tried her best to keep the bitter anger from her voice. "It just wasn't taken."

"Just remember - Megatron, Shockwave, and Soundwave all _thrive_ on mechs who'll let their anger affect their judgment," Jazz warned them. "I don't remember ever seeing Sentinel Prime's Guard in person - would Megatron be able to recognize you?"

"Not like this," she shook her head, her natural bubbly manner returning quickly. "I wasn't a Seeker. None of us were."

"Good - 'e'd use it against ya, if 'e did," Jazz explained. "Later on, if ya don't mind, I'd like ta talk about what did happen ... nobody really has any records," he admitted. "But it's up t'you," he added.

"We'll tell you," Whippoorwill promised, almost back to herself. "If you provide the high-grade," she gave him a playful wink over her shoulder before twisting around in the next step to walk backwards again.

"We'll see how supplies are," he winked back. "Maybe borrow some of Ezara's private stash."

"I'll bring out the _good_ stuff," the Tezita grinned wildly. "We'll have a proper warrior's welcome party for'ya."

::Should I be afraid?:: Ultra Magnus asked Optimus silently over an encrypted radio band.

::Not unless you're on Earth at the time,:: he chuckled deeply. ::She's more lustful than violent overenergized.::

::Be grateful for small miracles then,:: Magnus chuckled in reply.

::Believe me, I am,:: Optimus agreed. ::Though Prowl isn't very fond of it.::

::I cannot imagine he is,:: Magnus chuckled deeply. ::I cannot imagine he is pleased with anything but her ability to fight well.::

::Discipline is not her strongest suit,:: Optimus agreed. ::Mostly because, to this point, it hasn't had to be. She's a brilliant tactician though.::

::That's good, given her position as military leader,:: he hesitated. ::Just how sure are you that she can be trusted to keep her word, or that she has anyone coming to aid us?::

::To keep her word? I'm sure she can be trusted very well. Regarding the aid that's supposed to be on the way ... we won't know for sure for at least an Earth cycle, but there's no reason not to believe her. The danger will be that she may not win the challenge against her successor, and that he may not be so honorable. Though she claims that if he breaks his word, her people's military would turn on him for the breach of honor.::

::And with what I've seen ... the other Sparks inside her, she may be strong enough to force compliance,:: Magnus mused. ::It is most unusual, to have so many Sparks in one body.::

::Especially so strong,:: Prime agreed. ::But it seems to be typical for them - and the reason that they burn out so quickly. Their lives are much, much shorter than ours.::

::Just how much shorter?:: Magnus was suddenly very interested. ::What about others of her kind? Do they all live short lives?::

::She'll last roughly a ganon,:: Optimus explained. ::And that's another difference between the military and the civilians - it seems that their military, while not _that_ short-lived, still don't last as long as we're used to. One of the prices of their increased power levels.::

::Such short lives,:: Magnus murmured. ::How long are they in fighting shape?::

::I'm not sure,:: Optimus admitted. ::I know she'll fight until she's deactivated. Most of their warrior-class will.::

"Optimus Prime, Sir, permission to ask a potentially sensitive question," Whippoorwill shifted her focus to him.

"Granted," he responded, openly curious about what she wanted to know that was sensitive but could be asked in public.

"What were you, before you were Prime, Sir?"

"What does that matter?" Ultra Magnus all but snarled.

"It will matter a great deal in just over a metacycle when his primary duties are no longer as a battlefield leader," she responded evenly.

"What makes you think..."

"Ultra Magnus," Whippoorwill cut him off. "He didn't know what the Guard is, didn't recognize our names. His battlefield tactics evolved from those of an experienced but low ranking grunt. While his speech is perfect now, under stress he clips some words, rolls his R's and twists his T's in a manner indicative of the lower working class of the Trumon district."

"It's all right, Magnus," Optimus soothed his long-time friend before she could continue. "I was Orion Pax, and you are correct. I was a dock worker in the Trumon district."

"And since then, who has been responsible for your education?" she asked almost gently.

"Experience," Optimus answered after a bit of a pause as it sunk in what she was getting at. On the battlefield, good instincts and a good team could make up for a lack of trained knowledge to a great extent. Experience was soon worth more than all the tactical training in the universe. In politics, in what was coming very soon, he was so far out of his depth he'd refused to think about it. "Experience, good advisers, and the Matrix," he added, as much to reassure himself as them.

"If you wish, we can bring you up to speed as much as time allows," Whippoorwill offered respectfully. "Between us, especially with the other Guard, we know as much about Cybertron's politics and history as almost anyone."

"It will be welcome," he nodded. "Though much of it has changed, particularly on the political front. The Decepticons have restructured many of the old alliances and animosities."

"After nine ganon, I would expect so," she nodded. "Ultra Magnus, are you up to speed on who has survived of any rank that is not Decepticon?"

"Civilian, or military?" He asked her. "I'm up on it as much as I can be, though how much power they _actually_ have changes from day to day, depending on how desperate they are. Sometimes it works in our favor, sometimes not."

"As expected," Whippoorwill nodded. "I would appreciate being brought up to date as much as possible before Ezara leaves. The more you can tell me, the more prepared Optimus will be to take over the traditional role of Prime when it comes."

"Before _I_ leave?" she shot the small jet a glare.

"We are _your_ Guard," she looked back mildly, and got a resigned sigh for it.

"Of course," Ultra Magnus agreed. "I'd be glad to though. I'd planned on doing so when the chance was available, of course," he added.

"I understand, Magnus," Optimus chuckled lowly. "You've practically _been_ Prime for long enough."

"Please, don't remind me," Ultra Magnus said with a low shudder in his voice, clearly not very comfortable with the role.

"Unless you plan to come to Earth, I'll have far more opportunity and time," Whippoorwill said easily.

"I need you on Cybertron," Optimus told his friend before Magnus could answer.

"Understood," he agreed. "I'll stay here, and bring you up to date, though you probably know more about the old political systems than I do," he told Whippoorwill respectfully. "You were much, much closer to them than I ever was."

"What rank did you obtain before the attack on Iacon?" she asked politely.

"Base Commander of Vetric Sen," Ultra Magnus told her, and received a nod in return.

"Very true then," she agreed. "You do know far more about modern Cybertron, what we'll be facing when the war is over, than I can even imagine. Both are valuable."

"Ultra Magnus, is Whiplash still around?" Jazz spoke up.

"Yes, he's my SpecOp Co," he said. "Best officer I have."

"You'll wana talk ta'im too," Jazz told her.

"Oh yes," she chuckled deeply in honest amusement. "We'd met a few times when he made reports directly to Prime."

"Hell, he's the one who taught me - he probably knows more about what's going on right now than Magnus does, no offense."

"None taken - you're probably right," Magnus agreed. "Generally, we've got other concerns than politics - he can keep a much closer eye on things than I've ever had the chance to."

"It _is_ his job," Jazz pointed out as they approached the surface. "We'll need to be careful up here."

"Want air superiority?" Ezara glanced towards Optimus, eager for a fight, and to test her new squadmates.

"Let's stay with remaining undetected first," he stopped her. "There are ten untested Autobots with us."

"Yes, Prime," Ezara murmured, only to startle when Whippoorwill transformed at darted outside, her small, sleek form staying low.

"What..."

"Her duty," Ezara stopped Prime's snarl. "She's making sure no one is waiting to shoot at me."

"All clear," Whippoorwill said as she darted back in, flipping on her wingtip in a very Ezara-like move to head back out. ::Jets, if you fall in a formation behind me, I'll show you how to guard a convoy.::

"I'm starting to like her," Ezara snickered before leaping into the air and transforming.

Optimus just groaned, keeping a careful sensor on the nine fliers as the others transformed and followed Whippoorwill, Ezara and Skjöldur.

"For non-fliers, all three have a good grasp on trine maneuvers," Ultra Magnus admitted grudgingly.

"I'm not so sure Ezara isn't'a natural flier," Jazz spoke up next to them as everyone watched the threesome show the six new fliers how to keep close enough to defend a convoy while maintaining their minimum speed at a nearly suicidally low altitude. "Mighta picked it up froma Seeker, but she's got instincts."

"Her Guard definitely are not, however," Ultra Magnus pointed out. "I don't believe they lied."

"Delta Six coulda passed on Ezara and Stormfire's aerial skills," Jazz suggested. "Is Whiplash in today?" he didn't even try to hide the hopefulness in his voice.

"Unless he left in the last few joor, yes," Ultra Magnus couldn't help but chuckle. "I was surprised he didn't find an excuse to join us during the construction."

"I didn't know Whiplash was your teacher," Optimus asked curiously.

"That and a good deal more," Jazz had a fond smile in his voice.

Optimus decided he knew enough, and didn't want details. So he turned his attention to the encoded radio traffic from above them. Whippoorwill was talking; he was beginning to wonder if she ever shut up. This time about air combat, unit tactics, who and what needed to be protected the most, a warning that they would be mistaken for Decepticons on occasion because Autobots didn't fly.

She might not shut up, but at least she seemed to keep it informative.

He couldn't even imagine what it was like to exist without a body for longer than he'd been Optimus Prime. The will it must have taken ... and _half_ her unit had refused to die like sane mechs.

What did it take to become a Guard in those days?

Such thoughts consumed his spare processor time as they drove to the main Autobot base in the ruins of Iacon with twelve new Autobots and far too much to process in the next metacycle from the two that weren't entirely new. While much of the group continued forward in alt mode, Jazz and Grinder transformed to walk with the fliers.

"Ya can come out now," Jazz called out, his visor locked on a spot deep in shadows near the ceiling.

"'Y've improved," a light male voice came back, the tone playful, approving and just a bit sultry before it's owner, a nearly pure black mech with a low-mass build dropped down with more grace than most Cybertronians could manage.

"Introductions, Jazz," Ezara grinned at the newcomer.

Jazz chuckled. "Everybody, this is Whiplash," he wrapped a friendly arm around the shoulders of the mech about his height, but barely half his mass. "Best spy in th' game."

Ezara cocked her head slightly. "Were you on base last time I was?"

"Only for a couple breem," Whiplash told her. "I saw you talking with Ultra Magnus when ya were headed out. That was impressive rescue, by tha'way, and'a good catch."

"Thank you," Ezara inclined her head towards him with a smile.

::Nice move.:: Jazz grinned at his mentor.

"So who's everybody?" Whiplash glanced at the gathering of new Autobots.

"The two dusty rose gals are Whippoorwill and Skjöldur," Jazz began, pausing when Whiplash stiffened fractionally. "Yeah, th'same two."

"Your looks'r quite ... different," Whiplash eventually said.

"And you've changed none," Whippoorwill grinned at him. "Spark's the same old Whippoorwill that liked to bust'ya for sneakin' past the guards."

That got Jazz to look between them in surprise.

"She's three hundred vorn older than me," Whiplash explained. "Already on the Guard when I was finishing my training."

"I cost him almost two vorn," she smirked.

"But once I got pasta, no one else caught me," he countered.

"Then I did my job well," Whippoorwill said with real approval.

"Why aren't'cha with Prime?" Whiplash asked curiously.

"He assigned us to Toe'Emirc Ezara's Guard until hers get here," she explained, her tone almost neutral.

Whiplash didn't hide his wince for her.

"The others are two gestalt teams," Jazz moved the conversation along. "The Aerialbots are Silverbolt, Air Raid, Slingshot, Skydive, Fireflight. The Protectobots are Streetwise, Groove, First Aid, Hot Spot and Blades."

"Welcome to the Pit and the battle to reclaim it," Whiplash grinned at them.

"Com'on," Jazz grinned. "Let's get goin'."


	19. Old Friends and Lovers

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Jazz/Whiplash  
_Rating_: PG-13  
_Codes_: Slash  
_Summary_: A little downtime at Ultra Magnus' base.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 19: Old Friends and Lovers**

* * *

"Go already," Ezara tried to shoo her Guard away as they joined Ultra Magnus and Optimus Prime in the tactical planning room. "I'll behave. Go finish your team-link thing."

"After their last battle, they're probably going to be a little paranoid," Magnus offered. "From what we know, the attack on Iacon was completely without warning, entirely unexpected - Megatron had some real steel, to challenge the capital first."

"That's one way to think of it," Ezara said as she found a seat and relaxed, her feet up on the table. "It's also very sound tactics, given his forces were significantly outnumbered at the time. It through Autobot forces into chaos for vorns, and you never recovered."

"No, not really," Magnus acknowledged stiffly after a few moments.

"It's not your fault any more than theirs, Magnus," Optimus told him firmly. "We hadn't fought an opponent on Cybertron since Alpha Trion helped drive the Quintessons away - it's _why_ our military was so focused on the anti-carrier weaponry. You know that as well as anybody. And attack from within was entirely outside of our expectations."

"But what my line has dealt with all of history," Ezara looked up at him. "Respecting the tactical brilliance of a maneuver does not mean one must respect the goal of it," she tried to sooth it over a bit. "But what is the current status of Cybertron? I'd like to pass on what I can to Lyzen for the preliminary assault plans."

"Military, political, or otherwise?" Magnus asked, considering his knowledge.

"Start with military. That will be my primary concern. Politics is on Prime," she waved in his general direction. "Unless they're important to military operations. Anything you care to add is likely useful."

"The biggest issue is that Cybertron's energy reserves are practically exhausted - that's the biggest force driving us at this point. The power the planet needs to repair itself means that there's the bare minimum for survival available to us - there have been periods where we've ended up shutting down, planet-wide, until planetary reserves could be restored."

"What will the energon shipments do to alleviate the strain for the Autobots?" she focused on him.

"Depending on how much Shockwave plays politics with the power distribution grid, it's a lifesaver," Magnus admitted. "More power than we've had in ages. The only way we're likely to run into problems is if they try shutting down large portions of the planet again, and we have to run relief. Actually, I'm considering trying to reactivate the moon bases," he said, turning towards Prime. "Both of them, if we can power it. The Decepticons haven't bothered trying to use either of them, since we're not aerial, so if we can get them back we'll be in a good position, as long as they don't go building additional laser platforms that can hit the moons."

"It would make energon shipments safer too," Ezara said thoughtfully as she brought up the holographic display in the table with Cybertron and it's moons. A moment later more information color-coded itself onto the map. "We'll be able to make two runs a decaorn very soon." She locked optics with Ultra Magnus while the holo-map continued to propagate information. "If you open the moon bases, can you protect a power plant on one of them?"

"Definitely," he chuckled grimly. "There are tricks about those bases that most people don't know. Jazz, Whiplash, Kup and I are the only ones left who really do know _everything_ about them. The bases were never actually conquered, they were shut down when the forces manning them had to move to Cybertron for the resistance. They're not only each fitted with an orbital laser, but each is fitted with anti-aircraft, and carrier-class point-defense weaponry. Power is the main thing they need to be _very_ strong bases that would let us operate in the open."

"Anything I need to know about?" Prime asked Magnus.

"Both moons are rigged to explode, in case they're captured," Ultra Magnus explained briefly. "The soldiers manning them had also begun developing orbital bombardment systems that we should be able to get online within several metacycles, in case we decided we needed to go that way. Neither of us wants to have to," he added quickly.

"I'm impressed," Ezara almost purred, earning her a sharp look from Prime. "I didn't think it was in your programming to go that far. In roughly four hundred orn my Master Engineer of Energy Systems will arrive. Between us, we can build a system that can power Cybertron in less than a hundred orn, if we have the supplies we need, supplies that can be brought from Earth if you don't have them. It can easily be built for each of the moon bases. The catch," she shifted her focus to Ultra Magnus. "Is that if one of those bases falls to the Decepticons, you won't last long enough for my forces to help."

"Why are you so interested in pushing power systems?" Optimus cocked his head at her.

Ezara rolled her head to look at him sideways as she leaned back in the chair. "Because it's in your best interest if I'm _not_ the one to remove the Decepticons from power," she told him evenly. "You're an unproven and untrained political leader, your pre-Prime life will earn you a lot of deriders, you have not been successful in war, and your rank as Prime will only go so far to unify your people. If you're a war hero, the liberator of Cybertron, it'll be a dozen vorn or more before anyone would consider challenging your rule. More than long enough to solidify your place and the alliances you'll need to keep the planet unified without using a heavy hand with an alien military."

"I'm afraid she has a point," Magnus admitted as he reassessed his opinion of her. "At the very least, we'd need proof that the Quintessons were still a threat... which, frankly, isn't likely to happen given what we've seen. They helped Megatron briefly, but the fact that they're not still here has undone whatever good their appearance did us. Why would they have left, if they were still interested in Cybertron at all? That's the general attitude. Though having the power systems available at all would do quite a bit to stabilize Cybertron - being able to power everything reliably, and comfortably, will put most of the world firmly on your side after this prolonged famine."

"Optimus, I know you'd rather not loose more soldiers than you have to, but once the power stations are up, I would like you to seriously consider mounting a full military assault, after Lyzen does what she does best, but before my troops arrive. We'll rebuild, guard your boarders, fight whatever battles there are. I have a vested interest in finding a new war to fight before they turn on me," she snorted to herself. "What I'm advising you to do is very much _not_ in my best interests, or Lydrom's. With unlimited energon and most of the key players down, you should be able to take back Cybertron yourself."

"If we have the power to mount a full assault, we don't necessarily even need to wait for your troops to arrive," Optimus agreed. "Especially if we can get the two moonbases back so we can afford to stockpile the energy we need without risking losing it to a raid."

"There will be plenty of wars available for you," Magnus reassured her. "Maybe not here, but in the general area. The Quints, if nobody else - entire galaxy will be in better shape if they're not a power anymore."

"I'm quite sure that will be arranged," her smile was vicious before she turned to the holomap, now rich with information, and settled into a far more mature manner. "Show me what you need. I can do a great deal with very little."

"Ideally, we'll hit these locations first," Magnus said, indicating seven locations on the holomap. "To do that, we'll need approximately three shipments of energon stored. They're the main Decepticon prisons," he explained. "If we can break them out, we'll get several new fighters as well as releasing some civilians who were caught in the middle of it."

Ezara nodded thoughtfully. "Coordinated, simultaneous strikes?"

"At these locations," Magnus agreed, indicating five of the seven. "The sixth, Whiplash's team would be best to handle, and the seventh would be Nightraze's unit."

"Why assign Nightraze to the seventh, instead of Whiplash?" Optimus asked, considering it.

"The sixth location is Shockwave's prison - I think we've got almost everybody out of it, so Whiplash and his team can handle it and cause more damage while they're inside," Magnus explained. "The seventh is one of Shockwave's pet projects though. A location where he can put captured Autobots who are deemed suitable for forced conversion to Decepticons through the Forge. It's well defended, and there are a large number of prisoners. Nightraze is best suited for the quantity, and to cause the maximum amount of damage on the way in. Shockwave's headquarters, we don't want them to know about the damage until they try using something we don't want them to use."

"I'd like to go with Nightraze's team," Ezara said evenly, her optics on the holomap. "Can you have the rest prepared to go in two decacycles?"

"I'll have to check that Whiplash doesn't have any plans that will be confusing the issues... and we'll need some support from Earth," he said, looking to Prime. "If Megatron returns, it may complicate things."

"You will have it," Optimus promised. "We will be ready when you are."

"Is there any reason Shockwave should survive this?" Ezara focused on Optimus.

"No, but the focus should be on retrieving prisoners, not taking out targets," Optimus pointed out. "If there's anybody who's likely to be repairable, it's Shockwave - sadism isn't his drive, it's perfection, based on every profile of him available."

"From the insanity, yes," she flicked her chin right. "From his loyalty to Megatron, from what caused him to turn in the first place, I'm not so sure. He's still a linchpin of Cybertron's Decepticons. While not as damaging as removing Megatron, he's a very high-value target. Besides," she flashed him a grin. "I'm not even going to be on the team that hits his home."

"Not that that always stops you," Optimus said knowingly. "Or Whiplash, for that matter. But I understand what you mean."

"Unfortunately, there is also the issue of who could _replace_ him," Magnus pointed out. "Whatever else you can say about Shockwave, Cybertron is most important to him. He won't resort to WMD's to drive us out. The same can't be said of all of the Decepticons."

"So who's his likely successor?" Ezara cocked her head at him, understanding _that_ logic in full, something she didn't completely buy with keeping Megatron alive.

"If the Space Bridge is fully functional, and Megatron can move his preferred successor into place, it'll be Soundwave," Magnus explained. "If not, it's probably going to be Menthros. He was one of the few mil-bots who went over to the Decepticons; he's the one in control of the weapons systems, and according to Whiplash's sources he's been trying to convince Shockwave to let him convert them into bombardment arrays since the Ark left."

"So Menthros needs to go down before Shockwave," she said as much to herself as them, an absent flick of her fingers sending the hologlobe and it's moons spinning under calculating optics running two very different wars, with two very different goals, in concert. "If possible, I'd like a couple joor to chat with Whiplash before I leave."

"I should probably be along as well, so I don't see any objections," Prime told her.

Neither Autobot missed the slight hesitation, a brief look of displeasure, before she made a small move of her chin left.

"It would be best if you weren't, Prime," Ezara said quietly. "Just as you know not to ask Jazz for mission details, this is a conversation you don't want to hear."

"Ah. In that case, I'll arrange a separate opportunity to speak with him," Optimus granted, all too aware of what she meant, and that it meant that she'd downloaded all she felt she needed from the planetary grid. Everything from here on was just chatter for her, something to humor them and kill time.

"Easily done while he's on base," Ultra Magnus nodded. "Which should be until you head out, or at least an orn or two."

"I need to return to Earth before then," Optimus said. "For the assaults, are we likely to be able to draw on any of the neutrals for assistance?" he asked Magnus. "Not for the prison assaults, but the major offensive. If we can draw in more of the populace, it will tip the odds in our favor."

"Some, but not much," Magnus shook his head. "It depends on how much energon we can provide, and how much Whiplash can work his magic. The more they believe we can do what the Decepticons can't, the more likely help will be. I'll put his network to work and report the results."

Optimus nodded. "Tell me what you can of this idea," he focused on Ezara and took a seat.

"It is less an idea and more telling him what extra resources he'll have," she answered quietly, her gaze on the holomap and much of her attention elsewhere.

"Singer indicated..." Optimus hesitated.

"I know," she smiled faintly. "Sh' knows what SpecOps us'ta be. I know what it is," she settled in the chair a bit more, shifting her feet to hook them under the edge of the table and leaned back. "I may'be Toe'Emirc, but I've spent ma military life as the Si'Mir's charge. Ah may not _know_ what sh' has'n place, not names 'r faces, but I understand 'er, and the tech sh' had. I know what she'll have done, given what sh' had and knew."

"How do the others not know this?" Optimus asked with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Ezara rolled her head to smile at him, her face nearly upside down. "Lyzen trained me well. Before sh' allowed me ta sit in on meetings, debriefings or interrogations, I had'ta prove I could keepa secret. It took less'n a vorn. They can hide things from me; I can block'm. Rawlind had his plans fer me, Lyzen 'ers, an' I have ma own."

"What _are_ your plans?" Ultra Magnus grabbed the opening.

Ezara looked at him, her expression the most content either of them had seen on her. "To die well."

"Not too soon, I hope," Prime said seriously. "What do you know of _their_ plans for you?"

"No," she chuckled and stretched languidly. "I happen to enjoy living. I just want to be remembered well when I'm not. I know a lot of them," she flicked her chin right. "Rawlind intends for me to transform the Tezita, much as Mitrix did. Take us into space and expand our reach beyond Lydrom. Lyzen wants two things that I know of. To prove a Beast can lead well, and to live a _lot_ longer than expected."

"With so much of your life ahead of you, don't you think there is something else you might be remembered for?" Ultra Magnus scowled.

"Scientists are remembered for what they do. Warriors are remembered for how they die," she ripped her body in an easy shrug.

"How many of the other Toe'Emircs actually did burn out, rather than falling to a challenger?" Prime asked, considering what he knew.

Ezara gave him a funny look. "We fall in challenge _because_ we're burning out, close to the end and weakened by it. To answer the question, two didn't last their full time. Stormfire and Rawlind. Stormfire because the others did their best to hinder him in the first battle they could. Rawlind," she winced, though it wasn't in her own pain. "He died in a crash when his transport went down not far from the infected zone."

"I wasn't aware that it was connected to his death," Prime said, inclining his head towards her. "Was it the virus, or the crash?"

"The crash, we believe," she said. "The details are ... fuzzy. The ship shuddered, two engines blew, then the third, and impact. Heat, fire, a few joor of pain and disorientation, and then I was Toe'Emirc."

"How did they transfer to you from that sort of distance?" Magnus asked with a frown. "Even without having to transfer something like the Matrix, I would think that sort of risk would be incredible."

"The same way Spark-energy is transferred to survivors all the time," she answered, her tone just a bit uncertain. "The mechanism is not well understood, but the assumption is that is follows the strongest Spark-link it can find."

"I'd assumed that the higher amount of information would have a difficult time making the transfer over a distance," Magnus explained. "Particularly given that, from what little I know, you're the first Toe'Emirc who would also be the 'legitimate' heir to her successor."

Ezara cocked her head at him. "It always goes to the legitimate heir. It is the nature of the rank. There are plenty of theories on how the Sparks know, but nothing has been proven, other than the strongest will inherit."

"I think I worded it poorly," he admitted. "I mean that it seems the Toe'Emirc doesn't pass on to the typical heir - somebody they're bonded to, or their children. Instead, it passes from the Toe'Emirc to whoever beat them, from what I understand. I'm probably working from an incomplete knowledge of the system, but I was under the impression you were the first heir who was chosen, or in any way related to her successor."

"Yes, the first raised for the job," she flicked her chin up. "It does not go to the one who wins the challenge, but the strongest alive at the time," she tried to explain something she barely cared about. "The accepted theory is that whatever makes us different, what allows one to be a potential Toe'Emirc, is the same thing that allows us to remain fully sentient after death. It's been suggested that it's not a series of Sparks, but a single one trying to reform.

"What is known is that after a Toe'Emirc's death, all the other potential successors will die off within a handful of vorn. When it is near the end, more will be born. There will always be a hundred in play in a given metacycle when it's time for change. I know there's an intense drive to hunt and kill them that lessens significantly after you're Toe'Emirc.

"The way he made me his successor was two-fold. At first he killed off my competition, then he trained me to recognize them before they could recognize me. The more I could kill in adolescence, the less likely anyone would be stronger than I was when the time came."

"You gained your position by killing younglings?" Optimus looked absolutely horrified even as he tried to correlate her statement with what he knew of her that went far deeper.

"Don't give me that. Every one of them would have killed me if they could, and I gave every one of them a chance, much to Rawlind's frustration," Ezara growled. "I may understand the value of and use assassins, but I am not one. My kills are in battle."

"Very strange," Magnus murmured, trying to hide how disturbed he was by the implications of the last part.

"The strong rule. The weak do as they are told and in turn are protected and cared for. The rebellious are punished," she leveled her gaze on Optimus. "It is no different from what you both do. You expect loyalty, and in exchange you protect and see to their needs, and you punish those to challenge you."

"It seems like a very inefficient system," Magnus struggled for a way to say it that wouldn't anger her any further.

"It is what it is," Ezara settled with a ripple of her body. "It's just part of the Toe'Emirc system. Challengers are born when it's time, they die off when they aren't needed."

"Is there any way to abdicate it - it sounds as though once the first Challenger is born, it's basically over," Magnus said. "If they're only born once they're needed, then once they start to be born the world's _going_ to have the rebellion and chaos that go with it, unless the Toe'Emirc dies from something else first."

"If you can convince one of us to commit suicide, yeah, I guess it can be abdicated," she did her best not to go feral right there at the idea that went so against the grain. "You'll still have a rebellion. The new one has to prove they're a good military leader somehow."

"What you're hoping to provide by moving the Tezita into space," Optimus suggested, hoping to move to a different subject, one that did less to highlight how very well the Tezita and Decepticons would really get along. He knew her honor would hold her to her word, but it didn't change how uneasy the alliance would be in the long run.

"Something like that," she flicked her chin up. "My idea or not, it will do the job with far fewer casualties than continuing the war at home."

"At least that's the hope," Magnus agreed. "After you've finished around here, are you planning on returning? Or moving your military to this galaxy?"

"The enemies you know of don't stand much chance against a Tezita warrior," Ezara said with easy confidence. "As for future plans, once we're established, I don't intend to pull out of anywhere. Cybertron being an exception, since it is an alliance and not a conquest. You have the right to ask us to leave."

"There are good odds that we'll establish our own alliances as well," Optimus nodded. "Very similar in nature. Earth, for example - they've treated us very well since our arrival, and asked little in exchange except that we help them against the Decepticons, which is more a case of taking care of our own responsibilities."

Ezara nodded her understanding. "Politics are politics. It's not something I worry about much."

"When you do have your E'on chosen, I think it will be good if we all sit down and sort things out... once Cybertron has stabilized some, of course," Optimus added. "The politics here are very different, I do know that much."

"I have noticed," Ezara chuckled with easy humor. "I'm sure Whiplash, Jazz and Lyzen will have a very, very long chat about their field as well. Integrating two such different worlds will be ... interesting."

"Very," Optimus agreed with a low chuckle. "Why don't we catch up on some of what's happened while I was gone?" He suggested, knowing the subject would quickly turn more towards general war stories, and safer subjects.

* * *

"So how's ma best student?" Whiplash asked as the door closed to his quarters. As Ultra Magnus' SiC and the head of planetary Special Ops, he had one of the few single-occupancy rooms, and by far the most secure.

"Glad to see ya, tha's f'r sure," Jazz admitted, taking his familiar place on the berth while Whiplash grabbed his chair and pulled it over. "Things 'ave been nuts ever since sh'turned up."

"Ah'bet," he chuckled softly. "It's crazy whenever sh' visits. Best ways ta control'er?"

"Depends on what you're tryin' t'do," Jazz chuckled. "Get 'er to do somethin'? Make it'a challenge. Get 'er to settle down f'r a while? Sex is the best way, from what we've found. Tire 'er out. Fight'in makes 'er worse, keys'er up bigtime."

"Sha have any preferences fer sex?" Whiplash asked, working that over in his mind.

"Rough, dominant, wild ... dom'r sub ... she's what they're calling a Beast Spark, and it definitely shows in what she enjoys," Jazz explained, leaning back. "I could give y'a coupla samples, if y'wanted," he offered.

"Always up for your ideas," Whiplash grinned and moved over to the berth next to Jazz. "There aren't many ta trust these days."

"As if anybody'd get in if you didn't want 'em there," Jazz laughed, touching his mentor lightly, transferring a few of the scenes he remembered as Ezara's favorites. "And yes, I know, some of those involve Deceps."

"Jazz, that's _Megatron_!" Whiplash tried not to sound as rattled as he was. "Just wha' game is sh' playing?"

"Sh'hooked up with the Deceps before she did with us - trust me, she's not with them anymore, except Skywarp," Jazz explained. "She ain't an Autobot, you know? Sh's somewhere between th'two, but sh's on our side. When sh'was with them... well, y'saw what sh'liked about 'em."

Whiplash nodded his understanding. "Ally, not convert. I've gotta officer sh' might like, if'ya want some pressure off ya. Use'ta bust walls for me. Every bit as violent and dominant as old slag-face, but loyal to us."

"I can handle 'er f'r now, but it'd be good to have a name - anybody I know?" Jazz asked him.

"Ya've met'm," Whiplash smiled faintly. "Don't think ya know'm though. Nightraze."

"Only by reputation, but I can tell y'he's the right guy for her," Jazz mused. "Least that way. Has _she_ met 'im?"

"Na," Whiplash shook his head and relaxed back on the berth. "He's out at Praxus, at least last time I heard from'm, might've hit Kaon again. Got his own team now, I don't mess with'm much. Heavy hitters, silent walkers. Nastiest Autobot unit in the war. Not that Magnus will admit'it.

"Oh Magnus likes Nightraze a lot more than me," he chuckled deeply at the unvoiced question. "If I wasn't the best tactician on planet ya can bet I'd be stationed as far away as he could manage. He hate's us, even more'n Prime does. Prime recognizes necessary evil. Magnus ... like'ta pretend it's bad Decep luck, not us."

"It is though," Jazz chuckled. "At least when they ask if we're behind it. I know what ya mean though. One other thing y'll wanna know 'bout 'er - she picks up stuff from 'er partners _real_ fast. Talks like we do sometimes, then sh'll switch over to Prime, sometimes even the Decep's."

"Great," Whiplash groaned. "Does sh' switch that fast inside too?"

"How _deep_ sh' switches, I'm not even sure," Jazz admitted. "But sh' can embrace different ways fast, if she's got a reason. Don't think sh'does it 'just because' though. If sh' went back to the Deceps, and hadn't promised Prime 'er help, we'd be in deep trouble fast. So would Starscream."

"I heard about that," he chuckled in honest amusement. "The irony is priceless."

"Oh yeah," he laughed easily. "She'sa trick ta control, but so worth it. So who's're SiC now?"

Whiplash was silent, looking at him sadly.

"Y'_did_ find somebody to replace me?" Jazz cocked his head at his mentor.

"Nobody can replace you, Jazz," his voice softened as he reached over to slid a finger along Jazz's cheek. "Even if'ya aren't the best anymore."

"What'da mean?" Jazz rolled over to stare at his mentor.

"I mean ya were outa commission fer over four ganon," Whiplash looked over at him with a gentle expression. "None of us were. You're my junior command agent again, Jazz, by'a lot."

Jazz just stared at him for the longest time. "Junior," he murmured, trying to make it real.

"I'm not gonna replace'ya," Whiplash promised, tipping Jazz's face up to look him, visor to visor. "Ya know Earth like no other. Ya know _her_ like no other. Ya know _Prime_ like no other. There's no'ne I'd rather have keep'in an optic on 'im."

"Thanks, Whiplash," Jazz murmured and leaned forward to kiss him lightly, his processors still buzzing at the realization that all those agents he'd trained, except for those on Earth, now had several ganon of experience on him, all of it under the harshest conditions possible.

"Ya earned it," he smiled, leaning into the kiss and gently extending his processors in an offer he gave very few, and even fewer accepted. He slid his hand along Jazz's side, playing with wires and the edge of armor plates as the white mech trembled slightly.

~How long has it been, Whiplash?~ he asked silently across the connection they were both gradually establishing.

~Lost track,~ he murmured with a kiss and gentle touches in the physical world that were returned in kind. ~A couple ganon, maybe more. You, Silver Star, thought dead. Darkquill, Sideshock known dead. Quantum in deep cover.~

~Visit Earth sometime,~ Jazz whispered as a moan of pleasure escaped his vocal processors. ~Soon.~

~I will when'a can,~ Whiplash promised softly, moaning himself at the intense pleasure of being with someone he trusted enough to let inside. Not that anyone in their business ever completely let their guard down, not even in a Spark-merge, but with a select few, things came close.

~I've mist'a,~ Jazz whispered between their minds as the second set of firewalls came down, blurring the line between their minds.


	20. SpecOps Nights

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Jazz/Ezara/Whiplash  
_Rating_: R for mech/femme  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary_: A fight and Ezara spends some time in a situation she's craved for a long time; between two SpecOps killers.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 20: SpecOps Nights**

* * *

"Where are Whiplash and Jazz?" Ultra Magnus sounded as annoyed as he looked, though Optimus didn't seem nearly as irritated.

"Jazz has many friends here that he has not seen in a very long time," Optimus soothed his old friend. "They won't be long, I'm sure."

"You used to keep a tighter reign on him," Ultra Magnus looked over with disapproval.

"Like you do on Whiplash?" Ezara gave him a knowing smirk. "We put four high-ranking SpecOps from three separate commands on this base at one time. Do you honestly think you're in charge of anything at the moment?" she couldn't stop snickering at the death-look he gave her.

"I am the Commander," Ultra Magnus grated out.

"Relax," Ezara rolled her optics. "They'll be here when they're done with more important things."

"More _important_ things?" Magnus glared at her.

"More important things," she flicked her chin up even as there was a crash and cries of distress from a mech mixed with Whiplash and Jazz's less kind words. "I'm guessing like that," she turned and ran for the noise.

Optimus and Magnus were close behind her, clanging along. She reached the door and it opened just in time for a blue streak to shoot past her, tackling the slender figure on the other side.

"I surrender! I'm unarmed!" The lean, almost spidery metallic form shouted, empty hands held up as Blurr pinned him down beneath his small frame. "Not even built-in, slag it all!"

"You're still sneaking around my base," Whiplash's tone was harsh. "Why?'

"Why do you think?" He asked irritably.

"Linejack," Magnus said once he could see his face. "Hacker - neutral though, not Decepticon -"

"And also not Autobot, yeah, they all know," Linejack muttered. "Look, Megatron asked me to try and get some data from you on your new mechs, particularly the big teams. I didn't get anything though," he added quickly, though he didn't hesitate to take a long look at the ones he could see, particularly Ezara and her two Guard.

"Fliers?" Linejack looked honestly surprised.

"So, if he's in here on a mission from the enemy, can I take a crack at him after we send off Prime?" Ezara looked at Whiplash hopefully. "Professional curiosity," she said to his curious look. "I would like to find out how effective I still am at this."

"Depends on whether or not he has anything that _we_ can use," Whiplash told her, looking back at Linejack. "I'd suggest finding something," he added.

"There's another gestalt in the works," Linejack said quickly. "Not the new guy, but a third."

Ezara put on a pout that made Jazz chuckle. "Keep going. She can be _quite_ persuasive."

"The Combaticons - they're are five of them, Brawl, Swindle, Onslaught, Vortex, and Blast-Off."

"They aren't a gestalt team," Magnus pointed out with a scowl.

"They _weren't_ a gestalt team, I know - but I saw them getting modified, and heard they were getting ready for a trip to Kaon. The modifications were very specific, so I did a little digging around while I enjoyed Megatron's hospitality - I can upload what I got. It looks like they're bypassing the entire multiple-brain issue."

Whiplash glanced at Ultra Magnus, who nodded.

"If your info passes my read, I'll cut you loose," Whiplash said as he turned back to Linejack. "If not, you're 'ers till sh' leaves," he nodded to Ezara, and the absolutely delighted expression she had.

"It'll check out," Linejack said firmly, extending a data cable for Whiplash to connect to.

The SpeciOp CO accepted the link and spent a very long breem reviewing it after unhooking.

"All right," Whiplash nodded and pushed him towards Blurr. "When I get back, you'll be free. Until then, the brig."

"I expect this will delay the assaults; do you have an idea of how long it will take to verify?" Magnus asked Whiplash as Blurr led him out.

"It doesn't nee'ta sir," Whiplash said with a quick shake of his head. "Megatron's returned to Earth with both teams and more. I can verify the intel after Optimus and crew are there too."

"Or I will," Jazz spoke up, still amused that Ezara had actually pouted when she didn't get to 'play' with the prisoner.

"Probably a bit of both," Optimus chuckled lowly. "I just hope we find out from you before we find out on the battlefield."

"That hasn't happened in a long time," Jazz looked offended, though Optimus knew from the tiny turn up in the side of his mouth that it was all for show.

"I'll probably find out during the distractions for you to reach the control room," Whiplash added. "My teams are briefed and ready."

"Then let's go," Ultra Magnus nodded. "This is the largest assault we've attempted in a long time."

"Twenty-six to Earth via space bridge, with as many providing cover and distraction," Whiplash agreed as they moved out.

::Are you sure it's wise to let her fight?:: Ultra Magnus asked over a scrambled private band to Optimus as they watched Ezara and her Guard lead the Aerialbots and Blades in their first battle.

::I'm far more concerned with the new recruits than Ezara or her Guard,:: Optimus chuckled lightly. ::You _have_ seen her claim air superiority before, have you not?::

::Yes, it's generally disturbing. She fights like a Decepticon who's lost their mind.::

::She fights as she was created and trained to fight; as a Tezita warrior,:: he corrected firmly. ::Do not confuse her joy in combat with the destructive insanity that drives them. If for nothing else than for Cybertron's sake, old friend. We need her to remain friendly to us despite knowing she and her people are far more compatible with the Decepticons than us. In two metacycles she will no longer be bound as my ally. We have that long to ensure she remains an ally when honor no longer demands it of her.::

::I will do my best,:: he promised. ::What is the difference?::

::Decepticons are driven clinically insane by what the Forge does to them. It reroutes all the power feeds and circuitry from the Spark Chamber and brain through the weapons systems, transformation matrices, everything. Every war system they have has a two-way tie to central-processing. It's what makes them better fighters than us, but it would also create a painful feedback loop to the brain and Spark with every use. Every time they fire a weapon, or transform, or even walk around.::

::Primus,:: Magnus murmured, shocked at the thought and what it would be like to live that way. ::No wonder they're crazy.::

::Yes. Ezara was simply raised to value combat prowess and owes her survival to it,:: Optimus continued. ::More than anything, she is _young_. Not even seventy vorn. If Hot Rod is difficult now, try remember what he was like ... what _I_ was like ... at that age.::

::You've made your point,:: Magnus consented with a bit of a chuckle. ::I'll treat her like a very young, very eager, very hot-headed Prime.::

::That should work well enough,:: he agreed with a chuckle of his own and swerved to avoid the flaming remains of half a Seeker that impacted just ahead of the convoy of over twenty Autobots.

::She does know how to do damage,:: Magnus admitted with a grudging respect.

::It is what she is second best at,:: Optimus agreed.

::What is she best at?:: Ultra Magnus asked with a note of curiosity.

::Surviving. Fourteen vorn while she was being hunted by an expert,:: Optimus pointed out. ::We're almost there - after the upcoming raids are prepared, I want you to work on identifying the city-states that we can still rely on the core minds of. They'll be the places we want to liberate first, the best footholds to strike back at the Decepticons from. I'm particularly interested in Iacon and Altihex.::

::I'm sure Whiplash has all that in a report, just waiting to be asked,:: Magnus said with a bit of resigned humor. ::Ever since he escaped last time, he's been quite focused finding every ally possible. We can definitely count on what's left of Iacon. Altihex is resisting in her own way. Praxus is also a strong ally..::

::Good to know,:: Optimus said. ::We're going to need all the help we can get - but this is the first time in ganon I've thought we had a chance of ending this war.:: They rounded a corner, approaching the tower - and saw the gathered Decepticons waiting for them.

"Autobots - break through, and reach the space bridge!" Optimus ordered them, accelerating along with Ultra Magnus to lead the charge into the line of defenders as both sides opened fire.

They both became aware of Ezara's presence behind them, her slow speed as she flew over the convoy. The road rippled ahead of them with the drawn-out sonic pulse she emitted tore into it and the Decepticon lines. Damage was minimal, but it rattled every processor and equilibrium circuit it hit, distracting them enough that only a few were able to fire off shots that glanced off the heavy armor of the two command mechs, before their massive bodies slammed into the defensive lines, scattering it, letting their forces move through, transforming and firing on the Decepticons from behind.

It was more than enough to break the ranks, and the rest of the Autobots crashed through with a minimum of fire exchanged.

"Ready for the lift?" Ezara called down as she looped into the sky.

"Ready," Optimus nodded, laying down suppressing fire into the Decepticons, sending them scattering for fresh cover as the ground forces gathered close to him and Ultra Magnus. It was a terrible battle tactic, but it was necessary as Ezara finished her loop and dove, coming in at ground level, appearing for all the world to be taxiing at full flight speed.

"Steady," Optimus called to the large force around him. He had to admit, it was a thoroughly unnerving sight to have her barreling towards them at full speed in her deadliest form. At the last nanoklik her form dissipated into a glittering black cloud, enveloped them and solidified. Each was pulled and pressed into a seat as it formed under them by straps and G-forces when she pulled up hard and fast.

"_How_ often has she done this with you before?" Magnus asked with a grunt as he landed in his seat.

"Never," Optimus admitted. "Not at that speed, at least."

"Would you rather I landed?" Ezara's voice had a sweet edge to it that made Magnus scowl. "Relax. You'll be on the ground again soon."

They felt her fire, the view screen in front giving them all an optic full of the side of the newly-repaired tower exploding outward and melting before she darted threw the hole and into a hail of weapon's fire from Shockwave and drones.

"Get ready," she warned her passengers when Skjöldur dove between her and the drones, transforming as she landing and opened fire with a heavy blaster. Whippoorwill was buzzing around too, sniping at anything that made a lock on Ezara while they cleared out the room.

"First batch going to Earth, in the chamber," Ezara ordered from the control console as the Aerialbots and Blades joined them.

"Aerialbots, Ironhide, Wheeljack, Ratchet, Caurun - with me," Optimus told them, leading the way in. The door closed behind them, Ezara at the controls. In moments, the chamber opened again, empty.

"Everybody else," she called out sharply, sending the others.

"We can leave?" Ultra Magnus glanced over at her even as she transformed into a small, armed transport and opened a hatch.

"Second batch is off - we can leave," Jazz confirmed, hurrying in along with Whiplash, moving towards the controls inside Ezara's form.

~Take out the roof at the location I'm feeding you,~ he told her, touching her side as he boarded.

~Understood,~ she replied the same way, her engines powering up as Ultra Magnus boarded after Grinder, leaving Jazz and Whiplash to their plan.

She fired at the location Jazz had indicated, and the roof collapsed, dropping onto the Decepticons before a section of a massive mainframe computer fell as well, dropping down, crushing limbs as Ezara blew out through the opening she'd created, quickly heading off into the sky above Cybertron with her charges, her guards close behind her.

A quick, sharp bank and she was on the ground again for Elita-1's team, except for Chromia, who'd gone to Earth. Then off again to meet another team as it blew it's way out of the middle of the tower.

"Home?" she queried Ultra Magnus.

"Home," he agreed. "By the scenic route, if they're bothering to follow us after that. Did you know what was up there?"

"No," she chirped as she made an elegant curve through unoccupied skies. "Something important?"

"That depends on what part of the computer fell," he explained. "Mostly, you managed to do more damage with that shot than we did with everything leading up to it, most likely."

"If we were lucky, maybe Shockwave got caught in the collapse," Jazz observed. "Probably wouldn't kill him, but the injuries might sideline his plans while he's repaired."

"One can hope," Ezara chuckled, sending an affectionate brush along Jazz's processors.

* * *

"Now this I could get used'ta," Whiplash murmured against the back of Ezara's neck while his hand stroked Jazz's side across from her. It was a tight fit for the three of them on his berth, but none of them cared. It felt far too good to have three bots that all understood SpecOps there.

"Mmm, think that's m'line," she moaned into Jazz's kiss and pressed into the light, stroking touches of both Autobots. "Such talent'd..." her voice broke in a deep, lustful cry when Whiplash pinned her wrists behind her, between their bodies, with one hand and Jazz slid one of his between her legs to stroke her.

"Tha'z quitea turn-on, forya," Whiplash whispered in her audio receptor, causing her to shudder as Jazz claimed her mouth again.

"J-Jazz," Ezara could barely moan as she lifted one left to slide over his hip, giving his hand more room. "P-please."

"Please what, babe?" he cooed against her neck, still amazed at how intense her reaction to physical touch was.

When Whiplash kissed her neck, she shuddered and stiffened with a choked cry and gave up on speech. Instead she reached out with her mind and somehow got the image-actions to tumble into the right place.

Jazz only made a surprised sound, which got Whiplash to look over her shoulder at him. "Just do whacha were doing," he told the black mech. "Kinky," he murmured to Ezara when Whiplash turned his attention to her again.

"Intense," she managed to gasp out. Her entire body arched forward, pressing against his and melting slightly.

He didn't object this time, even when he felt her nanites begin to creep into his seams, stimulating the tactile sensors near the surface and deeper in. With a moan into her mouth, he pressed his fingers up. They slid through her body like it was sand, and the response ... he'd treasure the memories of her cries, of the pleasure and energy rolling off her for the rest of his life as the most unique overload cause he'd witnessed.

The intensity of it was enough to push him into overload himself, and Whiplash right after him.

Even with only her surface reactions available, both mechs were practically wrapped up in a blanket of her contentment.

"I think I'm glad he's not assig'ta Earth," Jazz murmured, cautiously extracting his fingers from her torso, his body twitching from jolts of pleasure she was still causing him from the inside. "Ya don't relax like this with me."

"Giv'it time," she lowered her face to kiss him tenderly. "Just feels good ta be between a coupla ghosts again," she whispered between kisses. "Very good."

"Mmm, ghosts?" Whiplash cooed against the side of her neck.

"What ya brand of SpecOps're called back home," she turned her head to kiss him, then rolled over between the pair to slide her hands down Whiplash's body. "Infiltrators; good at fittin'in, blend'n, readin' folk."

"Ya got that right," Jazz chuckled, nuzzling her neck. "Ah talent ya share."

"Mmm, ya said ya wanted ta tell us about Lydrom's intel network," Whiplash murmured gently against her mouth as his and Jazz's cooling fans worked to cool their bodies.

"You're soaking up our heat!" Whiplash looked surprised when his systems cooled completely in less than a nanoklik.

Ezara chuckled lightly. "Energy absorption. It's how I power myself," she said with a kiss. "Ya aren't using the extra. Now, I canna tell ya much, not names'r faces. What ah can tell ya is that you'll do best not look'en for'm," her expression turned serious. "They'll be Autobot, Decepticon and Neutral. Mostly 'Cons, cause they're the rulers. They'll know my allegiance by now. They'll start to help ya outright, but you'll never know if they're Cybertron or Tezita. Don't ask. They'll kill'ya before being uncovered. They were born and trained from birth to be what they are. They maybe younger than you, but don't think they're any less professional for it."

"I getchya," Whiplash said with a nod.

"Just how long do'ya think they've been in place?" Jazz asked with a kiss to her shoulder.

"Longer than ya've known me," she said with absolute certainty. "Much longer. Maybe vorn, maybe ah dozen vorn. They'd be on Earth too. Two ta six major countries, or big international companies. Anywhere they could get a lot of intel quickly on human behavior, government and tech. These missions would be general info-gathering, not sabotage or war-intel. It'll move into war-intel and sabotage soon."

"How would they fit in on Earth?" Jazz asked, not for the first time.

"With enough practice, with effort, we can mimic biological life, if we want to. Nanites will form anything we ask, with the energy and knowledge to do it," she said without much confidence. "I know theory, but I can't do it. I've only heard it's possible. Some secrets they guard very tightly."

"So back to th' subject," Jazz nuzzled her affectionately, his hands caressing her flanks lightly, just enough to keep her sated mood to hold. "Are they going to contact us, or stay hidden?"

"Only two things I know of will cause one of Lyzen's to break their cover," Ezara stretched into the contact, absolutely indulging in between two SpecOps killers. "A direct order from her, or a direct threat to the Toe'Emirc they can only prevent by exposing themself. Short of that, you're going to be looking at a better flow of intel, maybe help - from a distance - in getting your people out of bad places. A few more heads up about when and where raids will happen. Most likely, they won't come directly from her agents. It'll be funneled through your existing contacts. They'll protect themselves from you as much as the side they're in."

"How long could they have been in place?" Whiplash asked, nuzzling and kissing her throat.

"Given what Rawlind and Lyzen masterminded with me..." she shook her head. "Upwards of twenty-three vorn, _assuming_ they were put into place with this plan and not as part of an exploratory campaign. If it's the later, it could date back as far as Stormfire, or even Mitrix, fifteen ganon ago. Unlikely, but possible. Small teams have been sent out at times, and they were always SpecOps. No matter how long they've been here, you won't find one unless they want to be found."

"You're awfully sure of that," Whiplash murmured into a kiss.

Ezara kissed along his jaw. "I have to have faith in my Si'Mir, Whiplash. In her forces and her training."

"Shu," Jazz drew her back, against his frame, just a bit, when he felt her shiver and caught a trace of ... something ... from her mind. "You're safe wi' us too."

"I know," she snuggled into the embrace. It was something that never ceased to amuse him, how someone a quarter taller than he was could snuggle _into_ him so easily.

"How would they get involved?" Whiplash asked gently. "Try to take the place of someone with rank, or work their way up?"

"I don't know," she admitted honestly. "I don't know how they integrate into a society. I doubt you're lookin' at anyone of rank, or if they are, it's probably accidental. It's not about sabotage or war. It's about learning a world for when official contact's made."

Jazz nodded, accepting both the limits of her knowledge and the sense of the process.

"What about those on Earth?" Whiplash asked, causing Jazz to stiffen. "They've been MIA for four ganon, then turn up. It's a great cover to sneak into a unit."

"Yeah, it would be," she murmured, thinking it over. "Even those on Earth would likely count any discrepancies to their long deactivation. Still, they'd go for Decepticons, as the ruling faction, and there definitely was not one among them. I wouldn't put it past the agents on Earth to arrange for the timing of when everyone was reactivated though, so I'd have a friendly place to hide for once. That's about it."

"What's the latest they probably arrived?" Jazz asked. "On Earth."

She thought about it for a while, purring into the contact with both of them. "Five or six years, though I would expect at least ten to fifteen."


	21. Privacy No More

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Skywarp/Ezara  
_Rating_:  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary:_

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 21: Privacy No More**

* * *

Jazz watched from the berth as Ezara guided them out of the range of Cybertron's defenses and into deep space on a course to Earth. It was weird, to think that this little ship could make the distance in a single Earth day. A little unnerving to think that their newest capitol ships could make it in one sixtieth of that.

Right now, though, his focus was on the new not-so-new Autobots that would be shadowing Ezara everywhere for the next five to six Earth years. It was his job to know every bot, know their secrets, their needs, their processes. To understand them well enough to see a snap coming in time to prevent it. In a way, this was like any other effort to get to know a couple new recruits.

But it wasn't. These two had first hand memories of guarding the Primes all the way back to Alpha and had personally known Sentinel, the Golden Age, and in Skjöldur's case, even known Nova. Which meant she'd do doubt fought in his campaigns, then turned around and dismantled what had been claimed with the lives of her comrades.

It still bothered the back of his processor though. He was sure there were no femmes in the Guard, especially not under Nova Prime. He'd had little use for them. He'd never give one such an important position.

Were they just femme personalities in male bodies back then?

Or male ones that had gotten stuck in femme bodies thanks to Ezara's predecessors wanting to keep her out of their berths?

"Things're gonna be different on Earth," he mentioned, opening up the conversation. "Things aren't as bad as they are back home."

"How different from when Sentinel Prime fell?" Whippoorwill turned to face him, her visor up and battle mask retracted. "Do we control the planet, at least?"

"Depends on what y'mean - it's not 'our' planet, but we've got the locals on our side, and Megatron isn't running things. The shipments we've made t'Cybertron are a good sign of it - all willingly given in exchange for helping 'em with the 'Cons."

"Better than Cybertron," she nodded agreeably. "You've grown up well," she smiled at him. An honest smile he thought.

Did she know him better than he thought?

To most, she and Skjöldur were focused fully on Jazz. To the experienced spy, they were paying most of their attention to Ezara and the instruments, even though they were facing him and Whippoorwill had her naturally relaxed manner fully in place. Two natural infiltrators dancing around each other. Each fully aware of the other's nature, and that the other knew what they were. Each probing for strengths and weaknesses. They could keep this up for vorn and learn little if they both intended to keep their secrets.

Each doing their job. What they did best. Each willing to do anything to protect those in their charge, even if it meant their charge could never look at them again if their actions were discovered.

And they both knew that was what was happening. It was time to quit wasting time with it.

"Mind if I cut through th'slag?" He said. "We both want t'get a feel fer each other, we'll spend th'whole trip dancing around each other wi'out really findin' anythin' out - let's just get to th'point, why don' we?"

Whippoorwill laughed, an easy, light sound. "Sure thing, Saboteur. Ask away," she was still grinning in absolute amusement.

"Before the rebellion, who were you?" He asked her bluntly. "I don't remember any femmes in Sentinel's Guard, and certainly not in Nova's. If it's just a mismatch with the bodies, that makes sense, but I have to know."

"When you get a chance, you can look our names up. We didn't change them," she answered, relaxing against the wall of the small space. "I've been mech and femme both, rebuilt more times than I care to remember for various reasons. As long as it's small, fast and maneuverable it never made a difference to me," she shrugged. "Whatever makes folks attached to being one or the other never took in me.

"Skjöldur's," she glanced at her companion, silently double-checking before she spoke. "Been rebuilt a few times too, though not to the same extent. It's just a frame. It does the job. It's all either of us ever wanted of it."

"So your minds are basically neuter at this point," he nodded slightly. "Sorry about that, but given what we've seen for the most part, it was a serious question given your history."

"We knew it would be asked eventually, once we transformed as femmes," Whippoorwill nodded, her posture still at ease. "Either from someone checking the records or someone just checking. Believe me, it's a conversation I've had more than once over the vorn."

"Fair enough," he chuckled. "So, I've asked you one - why don't you hit me with one of yours?"

Whippoorwill considered him, about to speak, when she shot a startled glance at her sister and laughed. "You know he's not," she continued to snicker as she turned back to Jazz. "What got you into SpecOps? Besides Whiplash, that is."

"I was damn good at it," he chuckled lowly. "I was a cop with Prowl in Iacon, mostly did undercover work. Whiplash noticed me when he figured out who I was - fortunately, he was on my side too."

"Do you like it, more than being a cop?" she asked with apparent honest curiosity.

"Are you kidding?" He chuckled. "I don't have to go undercover just to catch some petty crook who isn't actually doing any real harm, don't have to deal with as many regs, don't have to screw around with _near_ as much. More importantly, I am actually making a real difference. Wasn't always sure about that as a cop."

"Nice to hear something good came of the mess," her smile turned a little sad, but only for a moment. "Just how secure _is_ the Ark?"

"Depends on what we're dealing with. The Ark is pretty secure now that Spike and Sparkplug know what to look for though. We keep a good eye on things, and Teletraan-1 can recognize the 'Cons we know about on Earth."

He saw before he'd even finished that it wasn't what she'd wanted.

"My team does its best," he answered her. "I get into Nemesis far more often than they get into the Ark."

"Who gets into the Ark?" Whippoorwill asked with unusual bluntness.

"The Cassetticons," Jazz answered. "Ravage and Laserbeak primarily. They don't usually make it in far - usually one of us spots them before they make it much past getting close, but Ravages' cloak can be a problem for some of us, and we still haven't figured out a way to jam it reliably."

"Ravage is a sweetheart," Ezara spoke up, the first indication that she'd been listening. "Intel breach, not danger."

"Sweetheart?" Whippoorwill looked over at her. "Lover?" she asked.

"Usta be," she acknowledged easily.

"Ezara hooked up with the Decepticons before coming over to us after Starscream tried blowing 'er up," Jazz nodded. "Skywarp might be talked into defecting 'cause of her, Ravage was another regular playmate."

"Soundwave and Megatron being the others," Ezara spoke up before she was asked. "Their defection is most unlikely."

"So try not to kill Skywarp?" Whippoorwill looked at her.

"That would be a plus," she flicked her chin up.

"So," Jazz asked, getting back to a few questions of his own, "how did you get onto the Guard? Were you created for it, back then, or come into it later?"

"Nah, no-one's created for the Guard, just reformatted," Whippoorwill shook her head. "First you prove your worth in your field, then you prove your willingness to die for him. _Then_, if he likes you, you get your upgrades for the job."

"So how'd the two of you get in?" He repeated curiously, fairly sure they wouldn't mind telling the stories.

"Skjöldur enlisted in Nova Prime's army early on, front line grunt. Made a name for himself in keeping his squad alive when no one else did, and going through more rebuilds than anyone else to do it. Halfway through his reign, Nova invited him to join the Guard.

"I was a thief, a petty criminal that got in way, way over her head one night. The Magistrate in Crystal City gave me a choice. Military, enforcers or prison for murder. I chose the enforcer. That was my third rebuild, into a mech. They gave me a sniper rifle and trained me to shoot on the wing," she shook her head with a bemused chuckle.

"The Captain didn't know what to make of me. I'm damn good at it, best at taking weapons out of a mech's hand. Even better at not getting hit, though I had to be rebuilt most of the times I did screw up," she dropped her face. "He knew what I'd been convicted of. He didn't understand how a murderer had such trouble pulling the trigger. So he stuck me in Intel, VICE, anywhere that my tendency to look pretty, flirt and learn far too much was useful.

"That was until I was playing arm guard for Sentinel Prime at a function in Crystal City. An explosion went off. Next thing that registers for me is laying on top of him with my back torn apart and half my internals gone. Another rebuild, a lot of training, and he put me on the team."

"So you were on his guard before you were actually one of his guard?" Jazz asked, raising an eyebrow. He'd heard of it, occasionally, but it wasn't typical to say the least - the Prime needed to trust his guards too much to slip in an undercover mech.

"No, I was his 'date' for the first ganon founding celebration of Crystal City," she shook her head. "Something to look pretty that passed the background checks. _Why_ his Guard let me anywhere near him is still beyond me, but they did," she shrugged, then rolled her optics at Skjöldur. "The party line is that a telepath passed me."

"Not Soundwave, I hope," Jazz chuckled. "Though I'd believe it. So, you don't like kill missions?"

"No, it was before Soundwave was activated," she said easily. "Though not by much. He was to be Mindwarp's successor, an advisor to the Prime. Obviously it didn't work out."

"Obviously," he nodded. "He had potential; it's part of what makes him so dangerous now. Under Nova he'd probably have gotten along fine," he mused. "Just how much did you know about the high-ranking 'Cons before the war?"

Skjöldur gave a huff, and Whippoorwill nodded. "He would have loved Nova, and what Nova was doing. As for pre-war Cons ... probably as much as you know about the modern ones," she admitted quietly, her gaze distant. "It was my job. Technically the head of SpecOps may have answered to Prime, but the reality was that the position organized through me. He didn't have time for it, for the most part. Just enough time to keep SpecOps from off-lining certain mechs we wanted gone."

"Megatron," he guessed. "The folks on this ship, and Whiplash, are the main people who agree with that point of view. The Primes we've got these days are prone to major idealism... unfortunately, idealists don't win wars easily. The strange part is that, if anything, it's only gotten stronger for Prime through the whole war."

"Megatron, Shockwave, Soundwave, Quicksnap and Highvolt were the list," she said quietly. "We got two. Megatron ... he moved too fast. We all gave our lives for Prime, no hesitation," she smiled faintly, still proud of their actions that day. "But he caught on before we could get the harder targets. I gave up on understanding how a Prime thinks, just how mine reacts."

"You guys realize you're bordering on talking treason," Ezara said quietly from the pilot's seat.

"For the good of the Prime and the world," Whippoorwill turned her head to look at her. "Sometimes plausible deniability is the only answer."

"I'm not the one who disagrees with you," Ezara gave her a brief smile. "I'm Arena and SpecOps raised. You do what needs to be done and take the consequences when they come. Optimus is not so ... pragmatic."

"Neither was Sentinel," Whippoorwill nodded slightly.

"Besides - it's not treason to say y'dun understan' or agree with 'im," Jazz offered. "Just insubordination and maybe murder... important difference, from SpecOps POV. A' any rate, with that new knife, Megatron's gonna have to watch his back closer. Droppin' 'im in a fight even Prime wouldn't mind."

"No, just coming close," Ezara winked at him. "Dropping Megatron would be a very good use for it," she said with an approving purr and stood from her station to join him on the berth. She stretched out behind him and slid a hand along his thigh, encouraging him to lie down with her as she wrapped her arms around him. "Keep talking," she nuzzled his neck.

"Seeing how I deal with distractions?" He asked her with a chuckle. "Or just resting for a while?"

"Interesting conversation," she nuzzled him. "I know you can deal with distractions. Besides, we might as well get used to it," she murmured hotly in his audio receptor. "They'll be watching more than not."

"All right," he chuckled, turning his attention back to the others as she pressed against him. "So, how much can you tell us about your old squadmates, particularly the ones who still want back? It'd be good to have an idea what type of bodies to build."

"Windsong, Crashcourse and Noitefel are the ones who still want to come back," Whippoorwill relaxed as she worked up a profile of each of her former teammates for him.

"Noitefel is Head of the Guard, in charge of the unit. He came on board with Sentinel; had been his bodyguard when he was in the Senate and followed him as Prime. Damn good leader, has a real talent for reading folks better than they know themselves when it came to what they'd be good at. Probably the best politician of the lot of us. Another reason he was in charge. It takes more than experience to do well in the post.

"Noitefel ... I haven't heard that name in a long time," Jazz said thoughtfully. "It means Nightfall, right?"

"Yap," she nodded. "He never did say why he chose it, and I stopped asking pretty quick."

"What kind of body would he like?" Jazz asked.

"Mmm, mid-sized, reasonably fast. Cybertronian design, the more classic Autobot the better. He'll have a fit if you make him look alien right off," she chuckled, her eyes roaming over Jazz's prone form and the way Ezara was playing her hands over his sensory nodes.

"Crashcourse is like Skjöldur, all muscle, no personality. He's as intimidating as she is, and pretty much has the same job; get in the way of damage. He's going to want big, heavily armored and intimidating."

"I'm sure," Jazz bit back a low moan when Ezara slid a slender finger into the seam of his leg armor. "Windsong was another light, fast one, like me. His main gift was keeping Sentinel calm when things went bad. He's as good at PR too, and spinning what I learned into something Prime could stomach agreeing too, at least sometimes. Not so much a fighter, but he made our lives _so_ much easier.

"Speaking of which, I know Optimus Prime has a long-time lover, and that she's not on Earth, or planning to join him. Windsong did that too, physical stress relief. There aren't many a Prime can relax with. It's part of our job too."

"With any luck, it shouldn't be that much of an issue," Jazz chuckled, pressing into Ezara's touch some. "Elita and Ezara are sharing, so to speak, until Ezara's forces arrive at least."

"So I understand," Whippoorwill nodded. "As his head of SpecOps, we do count on you to tell us things he'd rather not be know, when it's needed," she looked at him seriously. "The Guard may pride itself on knowing our charge, but I'm not so arrogant as to think they don't keep secrets from us, simply because we are so close."

"Of course," he nodded, stifling a moan as Ezara kissed along his neck and gently began to weave her energy field into his. "Though you might be surprised with Optimus, at least until the war's over. I think the whole lack of training issue has led him to basically follow the ideals everybody has of the 'right' type of Prime. That, and the fact that A3, Magnus and Prowl have been the ones who did the most to shape him."

"I remember Magnus," Whippoorwill sounded less than thrilled. "A fine soldier, good mid-grade officer, but not one who should have trained the Prime. Prowl, he's something special. I wish I'd have more of an opportunity to get to know him before the war."

"Well, you'll get the chance now, just remember that he's as dedicated to his job as you two are," Jazz grinned. "Y'fond of 'im before?"

She laughed playfully. "I knew him by reputation. We only met a few times, briefly. While I wouldn't object to his berth, his brilliant processor is more of the draw. I'm good at learning new tricks, and large-scale tactical is one of my less-developed skills. I'll never be great at it, but with a good enough teacher I can be more than passable. It's a useful skill for a Guard to have."

"M'mind's kind of focused that way," he smirked slightly, leaning into the kisses Ezara was laying down his neck and shoulder. "Y'r right though, he is good at it. Pro'ly be happy t'give you a few lessons too."

"I hope so," she paused, glanced at her sister and nodded. "How's Ratchet likely to take to a student?"

"Be glad to have somebody else to help with patchin' folks up," Jazz said with some confidence. "Not the easiest teacher, but 'e gets the job done."

Skjöldur huffed, a sound most would take for annoyance, but Jazz was already catching the subtleties in her vocalizations, as limited as they were. She wasn't nearly as unexpressive as most assumed. This sound was of amusement, or at least easy acceptance.

Ratchet would appreciate the quiet, steady strength she brought to the med bay, even if she never acquired more than a basic understanding of medicine.

He was still going over that, and other skills they may wish to learn, when Ezara shifted and pushed him flat on his back to claim a hard, hungry kiss.

Thinking would just have to wait for a while.


	22. Painting a Toe'Emirc

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Skywarp/Ezara  
_Rating_:  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary_: After six months in the Earth's mantel, Ezara's ship has finally recharged. It brings a change in her she wasn't expecting, and Sunstreaker is the first to feel it.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 22: Painting a Toe'Emirc**

* * *

"Perfect," Ezara all but purred when she stuck her head in the common room and saw Optimus talking with Jazz while Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were busy flirting with Silverbolt, who was looking both embarrassed and confused, much to the yellow Lamborghini's delight. She chuckled softly to herself and walked up to Optimus, keeping a polite distance until he'd finished talking to Jazz and turned his attention to her.

"Is there something?" Optimus met her gaze.

"I need ninety joor off, and Sunstreaker for the time," she smiled brightly. "It's time for my paint, and he's your best artist."

"Ninety joor?" Optimus looked surprised as everyone turned some level of attention to the conversation once Sunstreaker was mentioned.

"You've seen my paintjob," she grinned and leaned forward to kiss his battle mast over his lips. "Three coats, dry time, sealant and polish. It was an all-orn affair even back home with a full team to work on me and all the tech perfected for it."

Optimus nodded slightly and stepped back, much to Jazz's amusement. "I'll ask Prowl to rearrange the schedule for it."

"Thank you," Ezara chuckled as he walked off.

"If you do it here, you'll have somebody to talk to," Jazz suggested with a flick of one optic off and on to duplicate a wink.

"Better than listening to him for three orn," she laughed easily and turned her focus to Sunstreaker. "Sunny!" her voice hit a pitch and volume that demanded instant attention as she stalked over to him.

"You are _so_ dead," Sideswipe snickered, while Silverbolt looked relieved and began to slide away.

"Only if he's been lying," Ezara chuckled. "I need an artist and I hear you're the best on base."

"Then you came to the right bot," Sunstreaker grinned and puffed his chest up. "I am the best. Is that what you were talking to Prime about?"

"To rework the schedule so we both have enough time off," she chuckled at his curious look. "I asked for ninety joor."

"_Ninety_ joor?" he stammered, wide-optic, at her. "For paint?"

"It took over twenty back home with a full team and specialized equipment," she shrugged. "Ninety seemed fair for you."

"Do you have a design in mind?" Sunstreaker asked, considering her body as a canvas for the first time.

"Half the design," she nodded and brought out a small holoplayer. She put it on the ground and turned it on to display a one half scale image of herself, intricately pained in half a dozen bright colors with four insignia down her centerline and one on each upper forearms. "What is chrome is up for artist to decide."

"You definitely need an artist," he murmured, his focus going abruptly professional. It was a new look for him as far as the Autobots were concerned. "At least seventy joor, probably more. You have the supplies?"

"Of course," Ezara flicked her chin right.

"While I can take a good guess based on what's here, what is the point of the designs?" Sunstreaker looked up at her.

"To make me stand out, anywhere," she chuckled. "It began as a gladiator's paintjob, and is now a battlefield commander's. Both are meant to catch the optic and make me distinctive, easy to pick out in a crowded and chaotic field."

"Mmm, so I can do anything I want with the unpainted areas?" he considered the hologram thoughtfully.

"If you paint me gray I'll hurt you, but otherwise, pretty much," she said. "Just make it look _good_."

"Always," Sunstreaker looked hurt that the very possibility she wouldn't had crossed her processor. "I never do anything that doesn't."

"Good," Ezara smiled.

"Then let's start by getting you clean and stripped down for paint," Sunstreaker grinned.

"Go work on _that_ in the caverns," Prowl warned them. "We don't want the acid wash getting somewhere it shouldn't be."

"I know what I'm doing!" Sunstreaker snapped back. "Who does the paint around here, on _everyone_?" he glared before walking out with Ezara. "You'll stand out like no one in history when I'm done," he boasted.

"That's why I chose you," she smiled almost mildly down at him.

"That's right," he nodded. "Come on, let's go get you cleaned up," he said, heading for the supply bay of the Ark while he ran over how much he'd need of what. "You mind glitter or glowing paint?"

"Nope," Ezara grinned down at him. "The flashier the better."

"Finally, somebody with some taste," he chuckled. "Y'do realize I'll be painting a target sign on you though," he told her seriously.

"Have you _looked_ at me?" Ezara laughed easily and playfully. "I already stand out in this place more'n Prime and everybody on the field knows who and what I am." Her voice dropped a bit, and much more serious. "It's past time I looked my rank again."

"I'll get you there," he promised. "And I'll let you see what I'm doing, too," he added. "In case you need t'make any corrections." He doubted she would, but it was always good to be as reassuring as possible with a customer whose needs were so specific. This would be the most demanding paint job of his life, probably no matter how long he lived.

"Excellent," she nodded, watching as he gathered supplies and subspaced them. "Do you prefer to work in private?"

"I'm good either way, but they're not too crazy about the fumes inside - working in the caverns will probably be easiest on most of the folks in there, lighting won't be an issue. Besides," he grinned, "then I can make y'visible even back there!"

"Sounds good," she grinned and followed him to the wash racks to get the regular dirt off her. It wasn't strictly necessary, but they both enjoyed the process too much to pass up an opportunity. "You have _no_ idea how hard it was to explain the idea to Prime, Prowl and Jazz. They _still_ don't get it, they just gave up trying to get it."

"Psh - you'd think Prowl'd get it, if anybody would," Sunstreaker chuckled. "He stands out like a sore thumb from the other cars, unless you get him with a bunch of cops. The clothes thing - that's a little more unusual, but I get it there too. Thing is, damn few Autobots actually _had_ rank and money before the war. Pretty much Jazz and Mirage, that's it - and even Jazz only had rank on a technical basis."

"Prowl's processor lock came with the fact that I'm a warrior," she chuckled as they walked into the wash racks and moved to the largest one. "He can get the bright colors and standing out for a Civvie, but not someone who fights. It's the tactician part of him. He doesn't grasp what advantage there would be to making myself such a target, and the arena thing still makes him choke."

"Not surprised," he chuckled. "Y'prefer a hot wash, or cold?" He asked her easily, heading for the controls.

"Hot," she purred. "Do you have any idea how indulgent hot water is after a thousand metacycles?"

"Actually, yes," he chuckled lowly. "Cybertron doesn't have that much water at all most places, one of the reasons it's so good for us instead of bio-life. Probably one reason things last so long there too," he mused, turning the heat up enough to warm their metal. "So - how're things going with the Dinos?"

"Ah," she nearly groaned as the hot water sprayed down. "It's rare on Lydrom too, but we keep the wash racks supplied. They're doing well. Woken up twice. Still not smart enough to be turned loose, but there are major improvements. It's been slowed down since I brought the Decep twins in."

"Surprised Wheeljack doesn't just take 'em to Cybertron and get real Sparks put in 'em," Sunstreaker admitted, turning to help her make sure the water got everything washed off.

"That would negate the experiment," Ezara smiled down at him as they worked on lathering her complex frame. "The entire point was to see if he could build a sentient robot without Vector Sigma."

"That, and it'd keep 'im from proving his point, huh?" The artist chuckled. "Hey, what happens to your paintjob in different forms? Since it's not mechanical, I can't really follow where things end up - do you just pick where they're going to end up?"

"I can pick, as long as I have an idea where to put them. Which means I do need a rendition of what it would look like in each of my three core forms."

"I'll give you what I think it should look like, you can argue with me from there," he chuckled. "Most of your troops aerial, or ground-pounders like us?"

"Almost all ground-based," Ezara said. "Many can be trained for air combat, but it's not a field we developed much. Tezita Fliers are infamously unstable, and Stormfire made _very_ sure no one trusted them again with his actions."

"What _did_ he do? I keep noticing Prime and Jazz get stiff when he's mentioned, but nothin' more than that," he observed, putting together a few ideas and projecting them into her mind through their touch.

"He was insane enough that the other Toe'Emirc put him down as soon as he wasn't active anymore," she began. "I can show better than explain."

"How messy was it?" He asked her dubiously. "Don't need to see some things before I get to work on your paint job," he told her.

"Messy. He tore Lydrom apart. According to the others, he'd scare the Spark out of Megatron," she said quietly. "I'm not so sure. He is savage, ruthless and violent, but no more than I am."

"Yeah, but how much of that is _outside_ of a fight?" Sunstreaker asked her. "Ironhide's a bloodthirsty ass if you go by what he's like in a fight, more of a pussycat the rest of the time. Just don't tell him that, or he'll kick me half-way back to Cybertron," he smirked.

"I'll keep that in mind," she smirked back with a slightly blissed-out expression from the hot water and cleaning. "By the accounts I have, fighting is all he did. Well, fighting, hunting, arena battles, and recovering from it. If he had down time, it isn't something I have access to."

"Having a _little_ experience with sick slagheaps? That's _probably_ why most everybody is scared of him," he told her seriously. "The parts _you_ can't see. What they did on the job was only a hint - it's what they wanted on the walls that was the real disturbing stuff."

Ezara cocked her head at him, her expression openly curious. "I'm not sure I follow."

"It'll be a bit gruesome, but here are a few of my commissions," he said, transferring the information, along with the most disturbing scenes he'd ever been asked to paint.

"Sweetie, I think it's good I didn't show you what Stormfire got up to, much less what I decorated with," she looked at him sympathetically. "Only back home, it wasn't gruesome. It's normal for my background to decorate with trophies from battle victories and scenes of what we've done to impress visitors."

"That's the thing," he said, trying to figure out a way to get his point across. "You did it to impress visitors, as a sign of being better than your opponents. These guys would do it because they knew the person the parts belonged to would have to look at them on their wall and know what they'd lost. They'd do it to people who weren't a threat at all," he explained. "Pride is one thing, sadism's another. Pride I can _get_ - not that big a difference between that and putting your best work up next to a rival's worst in a gallery."

She stilled, thinking it over, and slowly nodded. "I've met those folks. They seemed like sad creatures, needing to prove something and not getting how. Didn't like them, or how they kept power. Stormfire isn't one of those. He loved the kill. Too much for the others. At least that's what they say."

"Can't really tell you anything more about that," he admitted. "But don't worry about it too much. At least there's more to you than just the killing - so, can you see well enough to look at a few ideas, or should I wait until you're out of the water?"

"I like the second one for the feral, the first for the hovercar, but the flier, none appeal," she told him, throwing off the nerves with relative ease and stretching upwards to rinse off. "Thanks for trying," she smiled down at Sunstreaker. "I can deal with living, but the rest of eternity..." she rippled her body in a shrug.

"Well, we've got three out of four at least," he chuckled. "We'll work on number four as I get a better shape of what the end product will be. Now, let's get you dried off," he said, flipping on his lights to warm them both up and evaporate the water off of her. "Do they follow you everywhere like that?"

"It's their duty," Ezara gave a tolerant smile as the blowers kicked in. "Obvious or not, if I'm around, they will be."

"Did you have that kind of security back home?" he regarded the two very different fliers.

"Typically more," she sighed, stretching and rippling her nanite body to dry quickly.

"You sound as happy as Prime about it," he chuckled, watching her unique body move as she dried off, luxuriating in the warmth as much as she had in the water.

"For the same reason," Ezara laughed easily. "We've both spent our formative metacycles taking care of ourselves. It grates to have guards."

"Especially since he didn't have much to take care of himself from, besides warehouse accidents," Sunstreaker smirked a bit. "You mind having 'em around? I don't mind the audience," he shrugged slightly.

"I'm getting used to it again," she said easily. "Though I meant his formative metacycles as Prime. Orion Pax gave little to Optimus Prime."

"That makes more sense," he nodded, finishing drying her off. "So, let's get to work then! I'll start with the symbols you need on there, then work on my own end of things."

"Good," she smiled, the four of them walking out of the wash racks and towards the caverns. "How did the two of you end up on the front line?"

"Hey, just because we're not angels, it doesn't mean we like the Deceps any better," he said a little defensively. "They're bad for business for both of us, and our skills were needed, particularly Sideswipe's."

"What's he so good at?" she asked curiously. "Besides driving Prowl nuts," she added with a snicker.

"Acquisitions, is the polite way to put it," Sunstreaker grinned, and got a laugh from her for it. "Yeah, he drives Prowl nuts, but he's one of Jazz's favorites for what he does. Me, I'm a good pilot, and I kinda came attached to Sideswipe."

"Want one, deal with both," Ezara continued to chuckle as they stopped in one of the caverns that opened from breaches in the Ark's hull. "I'm surprised he's not one of Jazz's mechs."

"What makes you think he isn't?" Sunstreaker chuckled, withdrawing the paints and primers from subspace. "He might not be on the books, but they work closely together, if you know what I mean."

"Far too well," Ezara gave a bemused chuckle and added her supplies to his. "I really should have expected he'd keep a few things back."

"He's intel, babe," Sunstreaker laughed, flipping his lights back on and adjusting them so they illuminated the cavern properly for the paintjob. "Probably more than you know. Did you ever _ask_ him about Sideswipe? If not, he probably just figured you didn't need to know about it, so why tell you?"

"Oh, I know," she chuckled in honest good humor. "I was raised by Lydrom's SpeciOps commander once I was military. I really should think of those things."

"Taking it better than most of his friends do," Sunstreaker grinned. "Sometimes I think the only reason Blaster and he've been together so long is because Blaster doesn't _have_ any real secrets he's worried about people finding out."

"There's a reason SpecOps tend to stick together," Ezara was a bit more serious. "Even the most integrated ones, like Jazz, live and die by their own set of rules, their own rules of honor. It's the only way they can do their job. It's not just talent and training that separates them from the rest of the population."

"I know," he nodded. "Though it can lead to other problems too ... how trained were you in SpecOps?" He asked, starting to layer the primer over her body and privately noting that she was accustomed to being pained.

"Officially, very little," she admitted. "But it's hard not to pick up a lot when you're with one at almost all times for two thirds of your life. She knew she was training her next ruler."

"What's your opinion of Mirage, then?" He asked her, trying not to give his own opinion until he'd heard hers.

Ezara considered him, and thought about it until the primer was fully dry.

"That if he turns, it'll be because the Autobots drive him out," she finally answered.

"That's something, I suppose," he admitted. "Don't get me wrong, I like the guy well enough - Hell, he was a decent customer before the War. But he's less of a soldier than _Bluestreak_ is, and that's saying something."

"But he's a top-notch spy," Ezara pointed out. "Just as Bluestreak is a top-notch sniper. Not everyone does their best work on the battlefield. It doesn't make them any less valuable, or loyal."

"No, but his attitude about Earth makes it more questionable," Sunstreaker pointed out. "Yeah, we all want to go back home, but not as bad as he does."

Ezara cocked her head at him. "If he _really_ wanted to go home more than help, he'd get Jazz to authorize him to sneak back home. We're making a run every decaorn, and the space bridge is an easy escape for him."

"Jazz ... would?" he scowled a bit.

"First rule of SpecOps, Sunstreaker," she said gently. "An agent that wants out is best humored, because they are worse than useless. They're dangerous."

"Well, if he's doing it as a cover, it's a damned annoying one," Sunstreaker muttered, switching to a light air stream to dry the primer so he could get to work.

"It's not a cover," Ezara shook her head. "He wants home badly. It doesn't change that he wants to help the Autobots _more_."

"I guess so," Sunstreaker murmured as his processors began to debate who he should trust more: Prime, or Jazz and Ezara. Surely the two SpecOps knew one of their own kind better than anyone, but _Prime_ ... surely Optimus knew everyone better than that. It was his job.

No, it was Jazz's job to know everyone, even the secrets they kept from themselves. Not that he, or anyone, would admit the spies were just as active in watching their fellow Autobots as the Decepticons, but it took a blind fool not to realize they were why Prime could trust his troops.

But Prime didn't trust Mirage. Yet Jazz did.

It was all too much, so he sidelined the entire argument.

"What art do you enjoy the most?" Ezara asked absently as he worked.

"Medium, style, or subject matter?" He asked her with a chuckle as he laid down the first coating of paint, starting with air-jets to distribute the broader strokes.

"Subject matter," she grinned down while holding perfectly still for him.

"Well, before the war, I liked getting off-world to take a look at worlds that had bio-life on them, when I could. Mechanical life is interesting, but it just doesn't _change_ at all most of the time. At least not in the cities. And the places where it _was_ prone to changing, I really didn't want to go too often," he admitted.

"True," she agreed. "The entire human species likely evolved in a Cybertronian lifetime. Certainly their entire recorded history took less than most Tezita take to fully mature."

"Which makes them much more interesting to paint," Sunstreaker agreed. "Even their geology can be interesting, especially around here - the entire shape of these canyons probably happened since we crashed, or at least the brunt of it."

"Living words are like that," she agreed. "They change fast. I wouldn't have thought you liked it here, given the mud and elements."

"Are you kidding? I hate those," he chuckled, finishing the broad shapes, narrowing his stream to work on the fine edges. "They make art fall apart too - can you believe that they don't have anything that goes back further than seventy vorn? Even if you assume they've missed some stuff, I'd be surprised if they had anything that went back more than hundred, with what the elements do to what they've got around here. Most of their 'antiques' aren't more than two or three vorn old, if that! But if you're looking for something that's interesting and unique ... well, you don't find much else, at least when you look at nature. Take a look at their 'art,' and it's usually anything but," he grinned ruefully.

"They've still managed some impressive things, for a species so young, and that barely lives a vorn, if that," she had a faint, fond smile on her face that he didn't see. "But I know I'm prejudiced."

"How so?" He asked her curiously. "I seem to remember you thought they didn't even rate being considered people not long ago."

"I'm still not conformable with that," she admitted. "But the rapid advancement as a direct correlation to short lifespace I do understand. My kind's creators, while larger and somewhat longer lived than humans, had a similar history profile as humans. There's an inherent fondness in our core programming for the Lydrom. The more similarities I draw, the easier it is to accept humans."

"Ah. Yeah, that does make more sense - it's hard to spend a thousand vorn developing your art when one's about all the longer you live. Suppose that's probably part of why you guys advanced the way you did," he mused.

"It is very likely," she agreed. "Even now our lifespans are short compared to yours, even if they are far, far longer than the bios. There is an inherent ... drive ... to improve quickly when you can count the orn to your own end from the day you're born."

"Fair enough," he said with a slight shrug as he changed paint colors. "How about you? Into anything besides fighting and fucking?" He asked, giving her some time to look at his current progress in a holo-projection.

"Music and dancing," she smiled at the progress. "Racing. Enjoying _life_. I have fairly simple tastes."

"You'll have to show us some of your moves later," he grinned. "How about you two?" He called back to her largely silent Guards.

"I love to party," Whippoorwill grinned behind her mask. "Do you know any of the old club dances, from before the war?"

"Of course I do," he chuckled. "Most of us do, except guys like Perceptor and Prowl. Even Prime probably does, though I couldn't swear to it."

"He'll _never_ admit it," Ezara laughed playfully, though she managed to hold her body still. "Club dancing's not dignified."

"Oh Primus, was that in him before, or did he inherit it?" Whippoorwill giggled.

Ezara snickered. "He was like that before. The Matrix just made it worse."

"Elita-1 would be the one who'd know," Sunstreaker grinned. "And now that she's around again, maybe one of these days somebody'll get her to tell. Doubt it though, she changed a lot too, from what I understand."

"Not as much as he did, but yes," Ezara flicked her chin up. "The rebuild was extensive. They did die, for a short time."

"Y'know, I kinda wonder if there was more to what happened than just Optimus getting the Matrix," Sunstreaker mused. "If maybe it got split between 'em somehow, or something like that. It'd explain why they both managed to come back - usually takes a lot more than that." He nodded towards the two Guards as an example.

"Between Alpha Trion and the timing, I wouldn't be surprised if the Sparks that were Orion and Ariel aren't the ones in Optimus and Elita-1," Ezara said quietly. "What little they have in common could easily be accounted for by the memories inherent in the frames used to build them."

"I s'pose it's possible," Sunstreaker granted. "Aren't memories with the Spark though?" He asked, glancing back at the two Guards, figuring they'd know better than anybody.

"They are, but they are also in your memory banks," Whippoorwill chatted happily. "Your Spark remembers important things, important to you or it or Primus. Your memory banks contain everything. They can be altered. The ones in your Spark can't be. There would be enough for a time after death to rebuild someone's life, as long as the banks weren't badly damaged. They degrade quickly without power though."

"How do you know all that?" Ezara asked curiously.

"I'm the team medic, which makes me the interrogator of the dead," she chuckled. "I've pulled more data than I care to think about from the newly non-functional.

"People who came after the Prime and didn't make it?" He guessed. "How often _did_ you have to deal with that, before the Deceps? Didn't get talked about that often, really."

"Plus spies and the like who chose suicide over capture," Whippoorwill nodded. "Not many came after Sentinel Prime, but Nova Prime had many enemies. Few with medical training have the tanks for interrogating the dead, so I ended up with all sorts of cases when I had time. Sometimes even murder vics, when it was important enough for Sentinel to spare me," she shifted a bit uncomfortably.

"Happened more often than you liked too, I bet," Ezara said with honest sympathy.

"I hate being away from my charge," Whippoorwill nodded. "It's not what I was created for, even if I'm good at it."

"So who's your charge right now?" Sunstreaker asked, knowing her orders and what she _wanted_ to do were two entirely different things, most likely.

"Ezara is our charge until her Guard arrives," Whippoorwill said, her tone almost formal and her body a bit stiffer than its usual relaxed manner. "Then we return to protecting the Prime, as we were created to do."

"Shouldn't be too much longer," he mused. "Besides, Optimus takes care of himself pretty well. He's gone toe-to-toe with Megatron and made it out in once piece, after all - if Bucket-brain didn't keep taking off before it was over, he'd be out of the way already."

"Nova was a warrior created and he had troubles at times," Whippoorwill said evenly, though she couldn't completely keep her distaste for him out of her manner. "He didn't like us around either."

"How many Primes _did_ you live through?" He asked them curiously, finishing off the last of the emblems that were required. "How much can I embellish these?" He added. "Not sure if you want to stick with the flat appearance, or if you want me to texturize them a bit."

"Embellish at will," Ezara grinned.

"I came on line shortly after Sentinel Prime took over," Whiplash said. "Skjöldur saw the second half of Nova's time as well. Her mentor knew Guardian, and his served both Vector and Alpha. So first-hand memories, ours or passed on, everyone but Prima and Optimus."

"Our leaders usually don't pass on by getting killed violently," Sunstreaker explained for Ezara. "At least not during the Golden Age, between the Rebellion and the Civil War. They usually retired, passed on the Matrix, and returned to the Well. So it's not a bad sign that the Guards have seen so many Primes."

"How long did the average one last?" she asked with honest curiosity.

"About a ganon, maybe two," Sunstreaker explained easily. "Nova barely made that before we decided to ditch him. If he'd been in charge, Megatron wouldn't have had anything to rebel against... y'know, if you're right about the Sparks getting recycled, I wonder if Megatron might _be_ part of Nova," he mused. "It was always war with him - no fun to paint for at all, though he spent a bundle on it. Sentinel fixed things up by starting to spend for other people."

Whippoorwill and Skjöldur exchanged a glance.

"She can tell, if we catch him," Whippoorwill said uneasily. "If he's really back, it's bad news."

"It probably isn't," he agreed, working on adding suitable details to the emblems. "Actually, I _think_ Megatron might've been created towards the end of Nova's reign, but I don't know for sure. The military wasn't really my strong suit, until I was part of it."

"Megatron wasn't military," Whippoorwill said before Ezara could. "Learned in the gladiatorial arena and under Warlord Trannis of Kaon. They were both a pet project before the attack," she didn't bother hiding how annoyed she was about her warnings being ignored.

"Somebody you were keeping an eye on, huh?" He said sympathetically. "Seems to be a recurring theme with the 'Cons - everybody knew they were a little off, they just didn't know how far that'd go."

"A good summary," she nodded. "A few of us knew, or I should say were convinced, but we didn't have enough facts, not the kind of proof the courts or Prime would accept to act. If they hadn't won that battle, it would have been a fine ITYS moment."

"Whole lotta if's about the entire war," he pointed out. "Can't go blaming yourself for it ... there, how do you like that?" He asked, finished with the fine details, making the Wolverine emblem look more exactly like her face in that form, albeit one that was furred - the natural creature her form mimicked.

"That's true in all conflicts; in all _life_," Ezara agreed.

"What do all these insignia mean?" Sunstreaker asked as he worked, sure that every color and line in the design she gave him had meaning. With the freedom she'd given him on half of the paintjob, it had to, or she would have let him do as he pleased with it all.

"The one you're working on is the no'cotae, my feral form. It is the first emblem I earned, when I earned the upgrade to have an alt."

"Why'd you pick that, instead of a vehicle?" He asked her easily.

"As I understand it, the first alt isn't chosen. Your Spark chooses it," she tried to explain. "It's a form you can move and react in as instinctively as your base. That part's true at least, though I don't have nearly the difficulties most seem to have with new alts."

"Given what you can do with borrowing other shapes, I'm not surprised," he nodded. "Y'know if you even _have_ a maximum?"

Ezara thought about it. "Yes and no, with my current body. By nature, there is no limit. The nanites can form any shape I wish. The practical limit is how much processor and memory space I'm willing to dedicate to variant forms. Now, the body I had back then, it was much like yours. A new form required extensive bodywork."

"How many forms did you have before you got this body?" he asked.

"Two. No'cotae and hovercar, the one under it. I was the Arena Champion of Darimoc before I could afford it. They're still my primary alt forms, though I'm growing extremely fond of the flier."

"I've noticed," he chuckled. "Y'ever try using that dragon-thingie I've seen you use in your head?" He asked her curiously.

"I haven't worked out the physics yet," Ezara chuckled. "It's not a real critter, at least according to the files. I can change into it, but moving is extremely problematic."

"Fair enough," he grinned up at her, though he added a small 'flock' of the creatures through the skyline he was painting on her.

"The planet with the silver spiral is for the Darimoc Speed Championship. It's a relatively minor title, but it was by far the most fun to earn."

"What's the track look like?" He asked her. "Generally?"

"It's a street race, run every ten Lydrom stellar cycles, even ten wraa; Two point five four metacycles or thirteen point four two Earth stellar cycles. It's a twenty-seven hundred decarun course around the district. Half in normal traffic, half a blocked off for the race. While it's open to anyone with a ground mode, it's been generations since it wasn't a hovercar that won."

"A little rough on the normal traffic, ain't it?" He chuckled, working the rough lines of the track in.

"It can be, but if you cause any damage to others, directly or by them avoiding you, you're disqualified," she said, taking in his work with great pleasure in the reflective metal mirror. "It's a big part of the challenge and why Darimoc is held above all others as _the_ race to win. To keep speed up without endangering others, even by their actions, requires a lot of control and an understanding of how others will react to you and what's around them."

"That would be impressive," Sunstreaker agreed. "And this geometric design?" he asked, tracing his finger around fourth circle down her centerline.

"Ah, the quest of a lifetime," she smiled. "The World Arena Grand Champion. I had to defeat the finest warriors in the system to win the right to wear it, including thee previous champions. I held the title for a thirty one tournaments, right up until I became the Teo'Emirc-elect."

"How often are these tournaments held?"

"Every hundred wraa," Ezara answered. "Forty-three metacycles, give or take a few orn."

"So you held the title for sixteen vorn," he considered it. It wasn't a huge amount of time, but neither was the three hundred and sixty one she'd been alive for. "Impressive. Why did you shift to your shoulders for this one, and why both sides?"

"It's the mark of the Vistra, my faction insignia," she chuckled lightly. "All military wear it there."

"Hmm ... what do the Vistra mean to you?" He asked her, considering what he was putting together. It wasn't necessary to incorporate her emblems into the rest of her paintjob, but as long as he was doing this he wanted to do it right - a striking paintjob that could be seen from a mile away that was really _her_. She was willing to let him do this sort of thing - most of the others just wanted flat colors that would blend in. He still remembered Ironhide's response to even _suggesting_ that those panels would be great canvasses to showcase his work on.

Mostly because Ratchet still hadn't managed to fix the burr on his rotator cuff. Definitely irritating, when it came up.

Ezara stilled, deep in thought as he continued to outline scenes and add touches to areas with base colors already.

"Home, safety, family," she eventually answered. "It was the first time anyone was really looking out for me."

"Hmm ... going to be a little hard to incorporate all of that into my ideas," he admitted. "Here's what I'm thinking of so far," he told her, giving her a projection of the image he had in mind; the night sky, studded with 'star' gems and crystals that would sparkle in the light, a flock of the sky-dragons flying along, but being outrun by the vehicles traveling along a stretch of the Darimoc track that ran outside the arena and off over a forested stretch. "Mind if I leave the Vistra end of things out?" He asked her. "Or do you have some ideas to incorporate it in? That's the scene as it'll appear on your vehicle forms, by the way, it'll look a bit different on your form now, or feral, obviously."

"I don't mind, but here are some symbols that mean those things back home," she passed on a handful of them, and their context, to him. A tight constellation of stars for family, indicating the Sparks that created new life but never forgot where they came from or went. A tight geometric sphere for safety; the unbreakable shield. A stylized image of modern Lydrom itself, and a crystal tower, for home.

"Excellent," he grinned, working them into the constellations he'd build for her out of the primary gems that weren't already slated for specific arrangements. "Y'like it?"

"Very much," she purred, somehow not vibrating her body while she was at it. Even more, he could _feel_ her strong, honest approval and admiration of his idea and his work so far.

How long had it been since anyone had treated him like this, had reacted with such approval to his work and given him such freedom when the design was meant to define them. How long since he'd felt this _good_ about what had been his livelihood?

"Are you okay, Sunny?" Ezara's voice, and its unusually gentle tone, roused him from his thoughts.

"Hu? Yeah, sure," he focused quickly. "Just got to thinking for a moment there."

"You've been at this sixteen joor. Do you want to take a recharge break?" she offered with a gentle smile.

"Tired of standing still?" he grinned up at her. "Sure," he stretched out stiff joints. "Back in five joor?" he suggested.

"Works for me," Ezara nodded and walked out of the cavern with her Guard, leaving Sunstreaker to his thoughts and some time to work through them.


	23. COBRA Strike

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Rating_:  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary:_

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 23: COBRA Strike**

* * *

United States Air Force Major Jack Carter tightly controlled his nervous excitement as his F-16 touched down. Every fiber of his being was prepared to run, to break out of one of the more tightly secured bases on US soil, if his orders were a cover to get him back in the states because they'd learned too much about him. He'd felt the same way the last two times he'd been summoned to Groom Lake; a bundle of nerves.

What did they want this time? It wasn't time for another test flight. Could it be the alien that liked to play tag with him? Ever since she'd pulled his tail out of a six on three match against those Decepticons four months before, she always seemed to be around when he was in a bad place. Then that test flight. He'd been told that she'd only help out if he flew the prototype jet.

But if it was her, what was he going to be doing? His orders were even less informative that before, from much higher up than usual and completely last minute.

He focused, stilling his mind and the turmoil of questions as he taxied into a hanger as directed, shut the fighter down and climbed out.

Two people were waiting for him; a young woman in light body-armor with long red hair that was anything _but_ regulation, and a well-muscled man with a Brigadier General's insignia on his shoulder and a regulation buzz cut.

"Major Carter?" The woman asked, extending her hand to him. "This is General Hawk."

"Yes, Ma'am," he shook her hand firmly, then stiffened and saluted the General even as his heart was pounding a thousand miles a minute. "It is good to meet you, Sir."

"Likewise," the General said, returning the salute. "At ease, Major. This is Scarlett, head of my counter-intelligence operations. Your friend is already here; why don't we go explain the situation?"

"Yes, Sir," he easily dropped into the respectfully relaxed state of a briefing. He resisted asking the questions buzzing around his head. If General Hawk was involved, this was black beyond black. Not even he'd managed to learn much about the ultra-elite unit, except that they didn't exist.

"Pretty much everything you've heard is true," Scarlett offered with a smile as they walked into the blinding desert sun and towards another hanger. "How did you meet it?"

"It, Ma'am?" he glanced at her before it clicked. "Ah. My squad was flying recon over Iran when ... have you seen her fly?"

Scarlett nodded, and Hawk paid quiet attention.

"That shot out of nowhere with three F-16's on it's tail. We hailed them, offered to help, and they began to shoot at us. Next thing I know the UFO had turned back and was protecting us. Took a couple missile hits for us - flew right in front of them - and I don't know what else. The three chasing it took light damage and retreated. Next thing I know the UFO's dropped into formation with us and hailed me, by name. Introduced herself as Ezara, and asked if I'd play.

"Given what she did, it didn't seem a good idea to say no," he shrugged lightly. "Since then, every time my squad's gotten in trouble, she'll be there soon afterwards."

"Has she ever said how she knew your name?" Scarlett asked him.

"She said she asked my jet," he motioned behind them. "I never asked how it would know my name."

"Probably just as well," the General observed as they entered a large warehouse, Ezara and two dark red bots Carter didn't recognize were waiting for them already. "Thank you for waiting for us," he said politely, looking up at her.

"Not a problem," Ezara said easily as she caught Carter's looks at her Guard. "Whippoorwill is the chatter, and Skjöldur," the name came out easily enough for her, but one look on the human's faces and she knew they'd never pronounce it.

"Shield," she spoke gruffly, only the third spoken line since her activation.

"The Guard," she tried not to roll her optics. "I go, they go. Yell at Prime about it."

"Can they keep up with you on a stealth mission?" General Hawk asked her seriously.

"Yes," she promised. "You still use tech that requires a reflection to detect an object. That's easy to avoid, even for Skjöldur."

"Good," he nodded curtly. "Are either of you familiar with the organization COBRA?" He asked them, glancing between Ezara and Major Carter. He knew instantly that he had heard the name, but she hadn't. The two Guard ... with their entire face covered by mask and visor, there was no telling about them.

"I've heard about it, something as well-buried as your op is, only on the other side. No linked nationality. That's about it," Major Carter admitted. He tried his best to keep it under wraps just how annoying that fact was.

"No clue, but I'm still learning all your country names," Ezara shook her head slightly and rippled her colorful body.

"The basics aren't _technically_ classified, but we'd prefer if you keep it under your hats all the same," he explained, bringing up a projection of COBRA's logo. This time he caught body language from the smaller Guard, Whippoorwill, and confusion wasn't good.

"General ... under your hats?" Ezara asked quizzically after flicking her hand up in a passable imitation of asking for permission to speak.

"Don't spread the information unnecessarily," he explained, privately checking his prepared speech for other terms she might not know. "COBRA is one of the world's lead terrorist organizations. No linked nationality, but that's not as reassuring as you might think. If they were simply a mercenary organization, we could deal with them, but their leader, COBRA Commander," he advanced the projection to the masked figure, "is a megalomaniac who wants to conquer the world, and has surrounded himself with madmen and mercenaries with similar goals."

"The rest of the briefing _is_ classified," Scarlett said during a brief pause as the four of them absorbed the information.

"Highly, as you've discovered," General Hawk agreed with a nod to Major Carter. "COBRA is as dangerous as the Soviet Union, if not moreso. They have the military resources of a decent-sized nation, and through theft, the black market, and independent development have designed craft that are a match for anything _my_ unit has available. Some of their more advanced projects," he advanced through several slides, showing operations in progress, and some of COBRA's more flamboyant mechanical weapons, "would be a match for the Transformers," he said seriously, glancing between Ezara and her Guard.

Ezara had something resembling a scowl on her face, though it was hard to tell for sure. Reports had indicated that she had different body language than the other Transformers, though she was adapting some human ones quickly, as he'd seen. Still, she didn't seem happy, and he was sure there was a trace of rebellious determination there too. In any of his soldiers, he'd watch them carefully for sighs of doing something stupid.

Her Guard, on the other hand, or at least Whippoorwill, most likely didn't believe him.

Times like this he really wished they'd had more time, and better access, to gather intel. By all accounts, the original group had been active less than a year, Ezara half that, and her Guard very new. He'd seen pictures of them flying with her in their jet modes, all three sticking out badly, unlike their compatriots, who chose native vehicles to mimic. He wasn't even sure what gender the two new ones were, assuming gender was even relevant. Sure, the original ones responded to 'he' and Ezara identified as female according to reports, but they were machines ... or at least mechanical.

What he wished more than anything, right now, was to have a solid grasp of their command structure. Half his reports indicated Ezara outranked Optimus Prime, while the other half indicated he outranked her.

Still, if even a fraction of their capabilities were correct, he'd be a fool to pass up an opportunity to make nice with them.

"Which brings us to why we want your help. Scarlett?" he stepped back to allow her to take over.

She nodded to him, only to pause when Whippoorwill shifted slightly.

"You have a question?" she asked the smallest, and most elegantly streamlined of the three alien machine-people.

Whippoorwill shot a glance at Ezara, who flicked her chin up to the right.

"You are a femme?" Whippoorwill asked with a curious note in a decidedly feminine voice.

"I am female, yes," Scarlett nodded, curious where this was going.

"And they are both mechs ... male," Whippoorwill proceeded, motioning to Carter and Hawk, and received another nod. "Are you muphh" she was suddenly cut off by Ezara's hand slapping her squarely over her battle mask.

"That's rude," she hissed in Cybertronian, which left the humans only hearing a series of rapid-fire clicks. "Don't ask humans that. It upsets them."

"Toe'Emirc Ezara," Scarlett spoke in a pause in the clicking. "I will answer if I can."

Ezara cast her gaze back to the bright red haired woman, and nodded cautiously before taking her hand away from Whippoorwill's face.

"Not to offend," Whippoorwill began more cautiously. "Are you bonded ... married ... to Hawk?" she asked with the kind of innocent curiosity that only a child could typically manage.

Even so, it caused a ripple of shock between the two Joes.

"No, we are not married, or any variant of dating," Scarlett answered after collecting her wits.

"Human leaders are not typically mated to their second," Ezara supplied, glancing at Scarlett to give her the opportunity to correct her. "Mission briefing. Questions when we come back," she said firmly when Whippoorwill seemed inclined to keep the tangent going.

"You haven't been on Earth long, I take it," Scarlett looked at the smallest mech.

"Ten solar cycles," Whippoorwill nodded.

"Days," Ezara added. "Now, what am I going to kill for you?"

Scarlett nodded, taking in the manners of all three, and the Major that Ezara insisted on, once they had insisted a human be involved. She was simply going to have to get an agent onto that base of theirs, or recruit one someone who was already welcome.

"A COBRA uranium enrichment plant in inner China," Scarlett brought up the map. "For hopefully obvious reasons this can never be tied to the United States."

"It is an act of war," Ezara flicked her chin up to the right, then settled with a much more serious expression. "Between China and the US if it is discovered that you organized it, and with Cobra and China against Cybertron and Lydrom if we are identified."

"Optimus will have a _fit_ if he learns this is what he approved," Whippoorwill clicked worriedly in Cybertronian. "An Act of War!"

Without a sound Ezara turned halfway around and reached out to touch both her Guard, dropping the conversation into the silent, completely secure place.

~Optimus _authorized_ this,~ Ezara countered sharply. ~If they didn't tell him what we're going to do, it's on them when he finds out.~

~You know he'd never agree to this if he knew,~ Whippoorwill countered uneasily, Skjöldur strong but silent agreement in the background. ~We need to make sure. Please.~

Ezara let out an audible sigh before she turned around to regard the two humans she didn't know with a critical expression.

"Optimus Prime did approve this join mission," Hawk assured them, though he wasn't surprised that none of the three likely believed him. _He_ wouldn't believe in this situation if it were reversed. The way she said it, she knew an act of war was a big deal. "If anything if detected, it would be credited to a rouge attack. Someone else."

Ezara now locked on him, and privately, it was an unsettling experience.

"Do you know what I am?" she asked with an unusually quiet, even voice. "What the Toe'Emirc is?"

"A leader," Scarlett responded.

"_The_ leader," Ezara turned her gaze on her. "If I make this strike, it is a declaration of war by Lydrom and Cybertron. If I make this strike under false pretences, it is a declaration of war by the US against Lydrom and Cybertron," she looked back at the General. "Do you understand the stakes?"

He understood all too well. Instead of conferring with the other leader, she was going to let the repercussions fall where they may. A soldier accustomed to being in charge and far enough out that conferring with others was no an option. He had no doubt that if he had lied to gain her assistance, to her or to Prime, she would do an unprecedented amount of damage before they managed to stop her.

She'd be one to keep a careful eye on.

"I understand," Hawk answered calmly. "This is a valid strike."

Ezara nodded slightly and turned her attention back to the briefing after giving her Guard a stern look to keep on topic is they spoke.

"As I was saying, your target is a uranium enrichment facility here," Scarlett's map went from a global one, zooming in several times in increments to show a sizeable facility buzzing with activity. "This is your target."

"Do you have any agents in the area?" Ezara asked politely.

"Why?" Scarlett let her gaze.

Ezara cocked her head. "The rules of stealth combat," she said simply, only to catch confusion on their faces. "First rule: Don't be detected. Second rule: Leave no traceable evidence. Third rule: Leave no witnesses."

"Agreed - though minimal casualties are preferred," Scarlett explained. "I have one agent in the area. He's not near the compound, but keeping an eye on it from several miles away."

"Minimal casualties are not what I do," Ezara said simply. "Just minimal collateral damage. If you give me his face, we'll take care to avoid injuring him."

"I understand that you have some ability to disguise your form?" General Hawk asked Ezara.

"Yes. We'll be going as the Star trine," she told him, causing her Guard to stiffen and Whippoorwill to look openly unhappy, though they said nothing. "If we're seen, the Decepticons should get the flak for it."

"I was going to suggest something like that," he nodded. "The target would be an ideal one for Megatron, in many ways, so it would make a great deal of sense."

"And if not, Starscream isn't known for his sense," Whippoorwill snickered, earning a chuckle from her leader.

"Are you providing the ordinance?" Ezara asked.

"Yes," Hawk nodded.

"May we see them?" Ezara asked before he could say what they were. "I need to understand their capabilities to plan the assault."

"Of course," he nodded and motioned her to follow him. "They're just outside, ready to be loaded."

Ezara nodded in tern and followed him, her Guard with her.

"Do they ever leave your side?" Carter spoke up for the first time.

"I kick them out of my quarters on occasion, but they never go far," she gave the pair a tolerantly fond smile of annoyance. "It's their purpose to stay close and protect their charge. For now, that's me."

"These are the missiles," Hawk motioned to a stack of eight large ground-to-air missiles in a rotating cylinder, with four more stacks of four smaller missiles to hook under the wings.

"As you can see, the ordnance is designed specifically to not be identifiable with US forces - more like the missiles attached to the Decepticons. Will they be compatible with your launchers?" Scarlett asked them, hoping to get a bit more information on their weapons systems.

"Yes," Ezara knelt and ran her hands along each set, then returned to the briefing room without a word. "Our systems are easily modifiable to handle almost anything intended to be launched.

"All right, so you have an agent on the ground keeping watch. In real time?" Ezara focused on Scarlett. The Tezita snapped her arm across the space between her and her Guard, creating a detailed hologram of the strike zone and surrounding area.

"Yes," she nodded, her eyes locked on the hologram. "How did you do that?"

"A handful of nanites projecting information between themselves," Ezara explained absently. "Patch your spy's signal through to here."

She sighed in frustration at Scarlett's incredulous expression. "Either patch it through or I'll hack it."

Scarlett blinked at such a blunt statement, but leaned over to type a few things into the portable computer. Almost instantly the real-time information was added to the hologram, giving it a photo-realistic quality.

Alien symbols appeared in the sky above the facility, lines of text in nothing that belonged on Earth and the three dropped into their native language, a strange-sounding hybrid of clicks and an almost whale-song like harmony. Mixed in were a few English words - uranium, China, COBRA, AMRAM - and likely at least one other alien language.

"English, please," Major Carter asked after watching the characters change rapidly with the exchanges between Ezara and Whippoorwill, and the occasional gesture by Skjöldur while the details built up in the holographic image. He could see leaves on trees and individual people moving around the factory complex now.

He could also see the rapidly developing map of the underground complex.

Ezara glanced down at him. "We're debating whether the munitions provided are enough."

"What is all this?" Scarlett motioned to the underground facility. She'd suspected, just because it was common, but she'd never gotten any proof of it.

"Teletraan-1 is feeding me our data, and its most current satellite feeds," Ezara explained easily, only a fraction of her attention on the humans as calculations continued to run.

"We'll need to talk to Optimus Prime about sharing that information," Hawk mused. "This sort of detail, in real-time, is actually readily available for you?"

"If the mission is worth dedicated satellite time," she nodded absently as the characters in the sky seemed to stabilize. "It's rarely done."

"What?" Hawk demanded as the hologram changed, the buildings exploding in rapid succession.

"Tactical simulations," Ezara responded as the explosions continued, all three humans convinced that they were only seeing a fraction of the frames the robots were.

"With the available ordnance, or additional?" Scarlett asked. "Are those your satellites pulling the information down, or ours?"

"Available ordnance, after a little tweaking," Ezara scowled, still unhappy with the results even though the place seemed to be leveled deep into the ground.

"Wheeljack's still got some of those shockblast missiles Mirage swiped from Screamer," Whippoorwill spoke up as the scene reset and played through again, this time with a much, much deeper crater where the factory had been that resulted in a satisfied look.

"Go," Ezara gave her a sharp nod, causing the small Transformer to bolt for the hanger door, rolling under it when it didn't open fast enough, and dart into the sky. "It's one of our satellites. Skyspy-1. Yours don't have the capability to scan that deep yet."

"You had it in position over the mine already?" Scarlett pressed, wondering just what their capabilities were. "Moving ours, unless they're already on the way there, is a fairly major project at this point."

"Not for a Skyspy," Ezara murmured, still fiddling with tactical simulations, though now it was the best way to hunt down survivors. "The Ark was an exploratory vessel. Its technology was focused on the most effective way to cover a lot of ground with minimal resources. Mobile satellites are a huge help there."

Scarlett added that to her list of things to have the techs look more into, nodding to the explanation.

"What's the extra level of damage you're looking to accomplish?" She asked. "We're simply looking for disabling the site, rendering it useless to COBRA in a way that won't cause enough collateral damage to the area to make the Chinese government press the issue of who is responsible. There shouldn't be a facility there, especially not one operated by COBRA - if it's simply destroyed, they won't want to admit that they had a facility to _be_ destroyed. If it's destroyed along with a large area around it, they may be more difficult."

"I'm looking to do enough damage that it is against their interests to rebuild it," Ezara explained evenly. "Very little collateral damage, but the facility, infrastructure and personnel are gone. With a complex going down nearly three hundred meters, it will make a large hole if it's to be taken out of commission."

"That level of damage isn't necessary," Scarlett offered. "We're looking to take the facility out of COBRA's hands - if China decides to rebuild it for their own use, that's between them and the diplomats. COBRA, however, is prone to trying something once and giving up if it doesn't work, fortunately."

Ezara looked at her with what only could be described as disbelief. "Why ... _how_ ... do they still exist?"

"They're creative... and persistent at the general idea of what they're working on," General Hawk explained. "Individual plans though, those they tend to abandon if they don't work initially. Cobra Commander and Megatron have a fair amount in common, in those respects."

Ezara snorted and muttered something in her native language, one closer to how humans spoke than Autobots. Whatever it was, it was enough to make Skjöldur stiffen sharply and click at her in Cybertronian. She got a sharp reply in the same clicking whalesong like language and both females settled down.

"And why would you want to leave a facility that advanced for China, an enemy state, to take over?" Ezara glared at them, though her tone begged to understand what she thought was insanity.

"China is an enemy state, but we are _not_ in a state of war with them," Hawk pointed out. "Just a few years ago we finally re-opened diplomatic ties with them. We've been making progress, albeit slowly. However, more importantly, would the Decepticons leave the site a crater that's unable to be used? Your cover is best served by rendering it inoperable, but not totally destroying the facility."

"It would depend on who engineered the mission," Ezara admitted. "Megatron would do your kind of damage. Starscream would take it out to the first or second sub-floor with a _lot_ of collateral damage to the area. He loves to watch the wreckage of life burn. Shockwave would do what I would and leave no trace behind but the crater but barely touch the jungle. But why leave such dangerous thing behind to be used by an enemy? The lower levels..." she paused, then snarled almost silently. "All right, minimal damage."

"What just happened?" The two Joes asked her in unison.

"Prime happened," she grumbled as she turned to Skjöldur and wiped her palm along the surface of the large jet's wings, once on each side. "Caught Whip picking up the missiles," she continued as both the red Autobot insignia and the finger-painted Lydrom one disappeared, to be replaced by upside down purple Decepticon insignia. "I know you hate it, but it's just until we clear Chinese air space."

She put a firm hand on Skjöldur's shoulder and clicked in Cybertronian. "It goes against my grain too, my Shield. But we are soldiers, and we will follow orders."

Skjöldur nodded fractionally and extended a hand to put it on Ezara's shoulder in mutual sympathy for a mission twisted by a leader they didn't agree with.

The moment was over in a heartbeat.

"Well still take the extra, but we won't plan on using them," Ezara's manner was still stiff.

"All right," Hawk nodded. "If I thought it would make a difference, I'd explain the diplomatic situation, but for now I'll just have to say - I have _my_ orders and guidelines to follow too. Good luck, all of you - including you, Major," he said, saluting them all. "Dismissed."

"If you want to watch, I'll leave it up," Ezara motioned towards the hologram of the target that stood nearly as tall as she did.

"Thank you," Scarlett said immediately, and watched the two robots walk out. She caught the Major's attention and kept her voice low when he move to meet her. "I have an extra mission for you. Learn about them. We need to understand these aliens, and you are in a position like few others. Just don't make her suspicious. You are in a unique position. Do not jeopardize it."

"Yes, Ma'am," he nodded acceptance, a tiny thrill running through his body as he turned to join the robots outside. Did G. _really_ just recruit him? Even temporarily?

* * *

"At least we know who's really in charge with the Autobots," Scarlett tried to drag Hawk from his darker musings as they waited for Ezara and her Guard to reach the facility. "And it's the diplomat and not the warrior."

"Thank heavens for that," he agreed. "Optimus is much easier to work with than she is. Though she does have a very thorough view of things ... I suspect if we put her on the job, COBRA wouldn't be an issue within a week, though we'd have corpses rather than prisoners to put on trial afterwards."

"I have to agree with you," she nodded, her eyes on the hologram showing the movements of people and vehicles that would soon be incinerated. "If we can trust the Major, we might well know how to control her soon. Or at least what drives her."

"If we know that, she can be controlled," Hawk said evenly, his eyes narrowing on the display. "It will be interesting to see how this version will be different from what Recondo tells us."

"I get the feeling that other than being more detailed, this one will match his," she said with quiet certainty. "She wants credit for her kills, even if we're the only ones who see it. I don't think she's very old, whatever that means for them. The other two, they've seen more."

"It is fairly clear," he agreed. "I'd almost say a young recruit, except most of those aren't quite so eager for blood. Of course, she is from a different world entirely. Professional opinion - can we trust her to perform the mission our way, if it's possible?"

Scarlett thought about it, then nodded. "If she was willing to break orders easily she wouldn't have reacted like that when Prime backed us up. I doubt _we_ could give that order, not without a lot more effort and political explanations than I want to deal with. Has there been any progress on getting someone assigned as a liaison to the Autobots?"

"Slowly," he nodded. "They're not against the idea, the problem is finding a bureaucrat who's willing to admit we've got aliens on our planet, helping us out, who we actually acknowledge and want to have diplomatic relationships with, let alone military alliances. The last I heard some of them are trying to pass the buck up to the Senate level, if you'll believe it."

"If this goes well, you might see if we can arrange it on a unit level," she looked over at him to see how well he got the idea. "Major Carter has the clearance, has worked with them before, was requested by name, and his record is impeccable, even to me. If he comes back from this with good intel and she's still likes him, he could be our way in."

"I'd prefer to get Mainframe or Robo-Joe in, but he could be acceptable," he nodded. "I'd just rather have somebody who can pick up more about the technology on the inside there, especially since they're friendly. We don't really need somebody like Chuckles, and they might be more comfortable with Robo."

"He might even get a few upgrades," she smiled charmingly, more than slightly amused at the idea of having an agent walk out with technology freely given. Any further thoughts were sidetracked by the hologram flashing brightly.

A moment later perfect replicas of the Decepticon's three primary F-15 Eagles appeared on the display, just above treetop level at just shy of the sound barrier.

"They are good," Scarlett murmured.

"We have _got_ to work on better ID systems, if they can all do that," Hawk observed. "And you can't see Carter - that's a good touch."

Scarlett stepped closer, actually leaning into the hologram as the small unit split up, each coming in from a different direction as they made their bombing run.

"Our systems were never intended to guard against this," she said absently, watching as the three met up again and began to open fire with laser on the people and vehicles that scattered from the explosions. "I wonder if _theirs_ are."

"I imagine - our problems would be that visual, radar, and radio ID won't work. But they can probably pick them up fairly easily, if they know to pay attention. That's always the problem - you see what you expect to see, so why look closer?" Hawk mused. "We could be in so much trouble if they'd landed in Russia."

"I don't even want to think about the trouble we'd be in if she'd landed in Decepticon hands," Scarlett shuddered as she watched the three jets carefully pick off targets. Even though it seemed they spend forever at it, she knew it wasn't even fifteen minutes from the first missile launch to when the group headed back out to sea at just above the treetops. "We have got to get someone on the inside of that base."

"Agreed," he nodded grimly. "At least most of the casualties look to have been COBRA agents. With any luck, they nailed the scientists there in the process."

"Maybe next time we should let her do it her way, see just what she considers a job well done," she watched the smoldering wreckage of the facility. "I can't say I like her look when it was suggested COBRA could have weapons on pare to her friends."

"No, but I'm not very surprised by it either," he pointed out. "They know that Earth isn't particularly dangerous to them. I'm just going to keep from mentioning that _our_ equipment is on a par with COBRA's, for the moment. Optimus would be reassured, but I suspect she would feel differently."

"I'm sure of it," Scarlett agreed grimly. "And I don't get the impression that she's very forgiving when she feels threatened, or at all opposed to the concept of a preemptive strike with intent to obliterate."

"Most likely not," the General agreed. "Let's go file our reports on what happened and prepare for the debriefing; this could prove rather awkward, depending on the mood she's in when she gets back."

Scarlett nodded and left with him, leaving the hologram running in the secure hanger.


	24. How Far is Too Far?

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Skywarp/Ezara  
_Rating_:  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary_: Ratchet is drinking in the common room, complaining to Prime about the experiment and how it's going forward even though they know what they're doing today will almost certainly kill Hotspike, if not both twins.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 24: How Far is Too Far?**

* * *

"You are looking unusually grim, my friend," Optimus said as he walked up to an unusual sight; that of his CMO in the common room, nursing what looked to be his third cube of the twin's special high grade.

"I do not approve of what is going to happen to those two," he glared at Prime. "How could you approve it?"

"For the greater good," Optimus sighed and sat down with his own cube of medium grade. "Sometimes there are no good choices."

"You're still talking about killing two mechs," Ratchet pointed out harshly. "What's worse, doing it in the name of medicine."

"They aren't the first, and they won't be the last. You know that," Optimus said gently, already setting himself to receive a long rant. "They are on death row. What is better, to deactivate them by firing squad or to help save hundreds, if not thousands, of lives?"

"I'm a _medic_, Prime," Ratchet protested. "I'm not a tech, like Wheeljack and Perceptor! I took an _Oath_, it's _part_ of me! I'm not supposed to use medicine to harm people!"

"You weren't - or shouldn't have been - asked to take part," Prime tried to sooth him from habit. "I authorized the experiment. No mention of your participation was included. She asked for you, and I refused."

"She actually had the nerve to try and frame it as _my_ duty to take part, to try and keep them alive through it," Ratchet muttered, though his optics contained a glint of gratitude that his old friend had thought to protect him. "And not because she wants them alive afterwards, either. I understand the principle of what they're trying to do, but I still think we're pushing forward with a full removal too quickly," he said morosely, knowing he'd made all the arguments before.

"I know," Optimus reached over to squeeze his shoulder. "I'll have a few words with her about approaching you. Which one was it?"

"Mitrix, I think," Ratchet sighed. "The worst part is, it's a valid argument. Not that different from a trauma victim, except that they'd want me to keep letting them work. Wheeljack and Perceptor understand, at least. Don't know how _they_ can do it, but they understand why I can't. Prime... with all due respect, are you sure we should be working with these people?"

~It's not my first choice,~ he responded with a touch. ~There is much I do not like about them. But this is still a small price if it keeps them from siding with the Decepticons. I've been inside Ezara's core processors. Her intentions are good. Somewhat warped, but for the best.~ "It is little different from working with Whiplash," he said out loud for anyone listening in. "War is ugly, and good bots do terrible things for the greater good."

~The 'greater good' can be an awfully handy rationalization too, Prime,~ Ratchet warned him privately. ~Just something to keep in mind, as she keeps suggesting new ideas.~

~With a single goal in mind,~ Optimus smiled behind his battle mask. ~At least for Ezara. She wants Skywarp free before he's killed in the war. Mitrix and Singer both want knowledge. Trust Wheeljack and Perceptor to raise a warning if they try to go to far. Perceptor has already raised concerns, and I have encouraged him to continue to do so whether I stop the experiments or not. I trust the Tezita's intentions and honor. That does not mean I trust their judgment.~

~All right,~ Ratchet agreed. ~Thank you for hearing me out, Prime.~

~I trust your judgment, and value your council old friend,~ Optimus squeezed his shoulder. ~Sometimes I can't be as gentle as I would like. Let me carry this burden, Ratchet. It should never have been yours.~

Ratchet nodded and finished his cube. "I'll be in Med-bay if anybody needs me," he said gruffly as he stood and stalked out of the common room.

"Anything I need to work on?" Jazz asked quietly, startling Optimus into turning to look at the Porsche.

"Only if Mitrix and Singer need a subtle reigning in," he shook his head slightly and motioned him to sit down. "I doubt it's needed yet, or do they?"

"Na, they're pretty focused on exactly what they said," Jazz shook his head and relaxed back. "She wants this ta work. They won't endanger that."

"Good," Optimus nodded and sipped his energon. "How are Skjöldur and Whippoorwill settling in?"

"Better than I expected, given th' differences in background," he drawled smoothly. "They're's some tension with Ezara, but tha's more situational. Sh' dosna like guards, they won't let'r loos'm."

"That's good," he chuckled.

"Will'a still think that when they're watching ya?" Jazz grinned at him.

"I would think you'll have to deal with that sooner," Optimus grinned behind his mask. "Just how _does_ Ezara handle them being around when she's 'off duty'?" He asked Jazz.

"She's pretty happy to chat with Whippoorwill for joor on end, but in general, both sides seem fairly content to act like the Guard just aren't around," he shook his head in bemusement. "I was more'n half expectin' it from her. It's how she treated'm back home. How she was taught to treat'm. They're there, but not worth noticin'. Not so much what I expected from them," he sipped on his cube. "For as little time as they've had tugether, it's going well enough."

"Once the initial shock passed along?" Optimus asked with an amused tone. "For a moment I thought they might _both_ try killing me for that assignment."

Jazz chuckled with real amusement. "Mutual annoyance with the situation has been a unifying factor. Similar viewpoints help too. The flight back was a good bondin' event. Whippoorwill and Skjöldur are quite aggressive, an'a head's up. Whippoorwill was VICE and IA before Guard, and SpecOpt's contact in it. She's a crafty, manipulative one. She's also been both mech and femme before, rebuilds, not rebirth. Skjöldur was a mech in his former life. As far as I can tell, neither care they're femmes now. The bodies are suited to their natures."

"I hope they won't mind the increased attention they'll probably be getting," Optimus chuckled. "They've already been catching a few looks from some of the mechs who haven't just discovered that their lovers are all right after all."

"Anybody eyeing Skjöldur seriously?" he asked as a ripple of tension flashed across his frame.

"Not as far as I can tell - she's much more intimidating," Optimus pointed out. "On purpose, I'm sure. Whippoorwill is getting more attention, not that that's much of a surprise."

"Which is exactly what they want," Jazz smiled privately. "I'd say they play their roles perfectly, expect they aren't playing. The more I'm learning about the Guard, the more it's clear that they're as much their own breed as SpecOps, or Medics."

"What are their roles?" Optimus asked, taking in what his TiC was, and wasn't, saying.

"Whippoorwill's a profiler. She's out front, making nice, bein'a distraction, mixin' with the crowd. She's lookin' ta spot trouble before it becomes trouble; to find the dissidents before they draw the weapon and disarm them before they even realize she's noticed anything.

"Skjöldur is exactly what she looks like," Jazz couldn't help but chuckle. "Eight tons of triple-reinforced armor to get between her charge and danger, then squash the danger if Whippoorwill hasn't sliced it up yet."

"And just how do they feel about pre-emptive strikes?" Optimus asked him seriously, knowing it was likely to be an issue at some point. "I heard the rumors before the War, though I never put _too_ much stock in them at the time."

"It depends on which of them you're talking about," Jazz said evenly. "Whippoorwill and Windsong are all about it, but that's their _purpose_, to take out a threat before it can threaten. To them, it's just being a first line of defense. Skjöldur and Crashcourse are generally agreeable to wait for something to show itself before squashing it. Once you wake them up, Noitefel is the Head of the Guard, and according to Whippoorwill, the best politician of the original ten. I think his opinion is in line with yours the most. Give him solid proof and he'll act, but not the Spark-reaction that Whippoorwill and Windsong rely on."

"Do you have any idea how long it will take to build bodies for the other three?" Optimus asked after a few moments to consider it.

"With current conditions, under a hundred orn," Jazz told him. "That is assuming that Wheeljack, Ratchet and Mitrix can be spared for at least five joor an orn to work on them. Whippoorwill provided plans for each frame. Not exactly what they were, but close enough they'll find the forms agreeable. She also said there are nearly a hundred other Autobot Sparks trying to get out."

"Ratchet should be the easiest to spare at this point; I imagine he'll be glad to have something to work one while Wheeljack and Perceptor are working with the prisoners," Optimus nodded. "It's good to know about the others as well - I don't know how many of them we'll be able to accommodate before the war is over, but the more we can get the better we'll be."

"It is possible to accommodate them all, if we're willing to have some of the humans help," Jazz suggested with a casual tone to cover how cautious he was about this. "There are some I believe we can trust to do the work, and much of their production network can be utilized without the workers knowing what they are building."

"You're talking about going beyond Sparkplug and Spike," Optimus pointed out, considering the idea. "How much of it can be done safely though? Components are simple enough, but the mechanical works are the sort of thing that would be harder to have them design without developing the technology themselves."

"From my understanding, the components are sixty percent of construction time," he pointed out. "Sixty percent faster for a hundred frames ... that's a lot of time we don't have to spend on it. There are a handful of humans that I believe we can trust to bring in and teach as much as we have Sparkplug and Spike. A couple I'd keep a careful eye on for a few metacycles, but it's viable to trust them."

"Is there anyone waiting for a body we know?" Optimus asked, seeing something in his TiC that was more eager than usual.

"A couple I know well," he acknowledged. "Several I know of. There are some very useful Sparks in there."

"Any particular names? It would be good to know where to have Ratchet start," Optimus pointed out.

"Stardancer. A scientist with a true gift for SpecOps mods. A good friend ... sometimes more ... before the war," Jazz said as he settled in to nurse his engeron. "Tailgater was a speed demon and minor criminal. I chased him more often than ran with him, but up against 'Cons, he'd be a Pit-spawn of a frontliner, and less dangerous to us than the twins. Understand his code of honor, and ya understand him."

"Which you do," Optimus didn't really ask.

Jazz nodded. "Whiplash has requested one of his former agents, Nightstalker. If she's half as good as she was when I was training, Shockwave will never know what hit'm.

"Skysong, Windfell and Nightrace are Seekers, but Autobot-inclined, even before Megatron blasted them. Now they're very anti-Con, and more than willing to wear the Autobot insignia if it means getting back'in th' air.

"Everyone else in the top sixty are frontliners with limited experience. Unless Ironhide or Ultra Magnus have recommendations, I'd go with Longshot or Zyven.

"That's ten, plenty for the next run," Jazz suggested. "Whippoorwill is providing Prowl with as much as she knows about'm, including recommendations from all five Guard about order to revive, personality, frametypes and special skills. Like'm or not, that lot are organized."

"Agreed," Optimus nodded.

"One other thing," Jazz got more serious. "Both our Guard wan'ta pick up extra training. Skjöldur is interested in Medic, and Whippoorwill in Tactical. I suspect Prowl already knows he's about'a geta student, but Ratchet ... it might go better with an introduction, given how little Skjöldur talks."

"I'll arrange it," Optimus agreed, even more pleased than he let on. Both were fields they had far too few skilled in. "It will give him something else he can work on... not that he's all that much more talkative, most of the time," he chuckled lowly. "Anything else I should know about them?"

"Somethin' he's more agreeable ta," Jazz chuckled. "Two projects ta save life should improve his mood. It's beena good decaorn for us, I think."

"Yes, it has," Optimus agreed with a hidden smile at Jazz saw anyway. "I have a little project for you. The G.I. Joe unit commander has asked for a liaison to be stationed on the Ark, since I couldn't spare an Autobot for an officer trade. I'd like you to check out the candidate list they gave me, and a few others."

"Sure thing, Prime," Jazz grinned, eager for an excuse to get closer to the local action. "Ya looking for my rec on who to bring in?"

"Yes," he nodded gravely. "They are a potent military force on this planet. I'd like to trust their intentions."

"But ya can't, not yet," Jazz nodded his understanding. "I'll suss'm out."


	25. Battle Reflex

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Skywarp/Ezara  
_Rating_:  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary:_

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 25: Battle Reflex**

* * *

"Autobots, transform and attack!" Optimus bellowed, bringing his gun around as Megatron and his troops swarmed around a remote military base. "Drive them back from the barracks!" He added, blasts from his rifle lacing the air between Megatron and the power facility he was going for with energy bolts, interrupting the Decepticon leader's flight.

"Oh Starscream," Ezara's voice was cloyingly sweet over the radio as she lead the Autobot air contingent onto the field. "Come out, come out wherever you are! We have introductions to make."

"Autobots!" Megatron snarled as Decepticon attention turned from the humans to the greater threat the Autobots represented.

"Attack!" Starscream screamed gleefully as he came out of the cloud cover with the rest of his trine, coming down from above and behind Ezara, opening fire on her with everything he had as the crossfire below started to take form. He privately cursed at the number of Autobot fliers in the air. Even with two full trines the gestalt plus two and Ezara wasn't for happy odds.

Skywarp and Thundercracker opened fire as well, each of them taking one of the two Guards. Thundercracker's fear generator pulsed through Skoldur's heavy frame, but didn't do a damn thing to rattle the heavy fighter's nerves, or her aim, as she targeted the blue Seeker for a ram.

Ezara's form flashed and flitted under him before darting skyward, Whippoorwill on her wing and a heavily frustrated Skywarp trying to get a lock on the erratic flitting of the smaller, faster fighter before they got above the others.

Starscream made a quick check and was pleased that the coneheads were managing to keep the Aerialbots occupied. Even at three against five, the gestalt was largely harmless, just irritating. It would be more of a problem if they actually _used_ their gestalt form - if the coneheads kept them busy, they might not think of it.

Thundercracker rolled out of the way of the heavy fighter's ramming maneuver, switching to his blasters as he came up behind her, his shots doing nothing as they slammed into her. Starscream mentally rolled his eyes, twisting around out of Ezara's way and taking a shot at the heavy fighter when it was convenient, hitting her with his Nullifier.

"Frag!" he hissed when Skjöldur didn't fall from the sky, instead turning to face him with heavy blaster cannons cycling up to full power as Ezara and Whippoorwill dove down from above.

He shifted his wings, shooting straight up as she fired, dodging the blast by much less than he expected and twisting to avoid the shots from Ezara and her smaller flier. What sort of wing _were_ they? The three of them couldn't keep up with each other worth a damn, without slowing down drastically. Sure the little one had potential to fly with Ezara if she lived long enough, but that big brute was more suited to ground assaults than air combat.

Meanwhile, on the ground, Megatron had moved towards the barracks, placing them between himself and Prime to give himself a few moments to adjust his cannon, preparing for a powerful shot. He knew that with the potential for human targets between them, Prime wouldn't take even a clear shot.

He wasn't as picky about collateral damage. Not with these stakes.

A grin crossed Megatron's face as he lined his cannon up while Squawkbox distracted the Autobot leader with his horrific concept of music.

Someone, a femme, screamed a denial above him; Ezara most likely. Maybe she'd come back with Prime gone. If not, he would have to kill her soon. She made the Autobots too dangerous.

He felt the drain creep into his circuits as he fired at just under full power - enough to kill even Prime. A screech and crash above him warned of a crash, but he couldn't spare the attention to check out who was going down.

Something huge and dusky red hit the ground between him and Prime, rattling the earth under them.

Optimus couldn't help the way his optics widened at the impact of the large mech - Skjöldur, the back of his memory bank provided. It was the way she stood, braced for the impact with the greatest amount of her frame between Megatron and him that really hit home as he watched her far wing, then arm and part of her chest dissolve from Megatron's blast.

In all that, she didn't wince, didn't make a single sound of discomfort or act like it even registered that she was missing a significant chunk of her left side.

"Get..." Optimus' words were cut off when she reached back without looking and twisted his blast riffle from his hand. One handed, it was clicked to high power and fired, grazing Megatron's head and leaving circuitry bare where it contacted.

The next shot punched through Megatron's chest as he dodged, firing back and wide, digging out a trench as the blast dug into the ground harmlessly.

"Bruticus, cover our retreat!" Megatron ordered. The five Combaticons on the field leapt together, assembling into the massive form of the huge gestalt that moved between Megatron and the Autobots, raising a cannon larger than Prime's trailer and opening fire on Ezara and Whippoorwill, trying to force them to break off their pursuit of Starscream's trine.

::Steady,:: Whippoorwill whispered to Ezara on a secure frequency when the Tezita faltered in the face of an instinctive fear. ::Big and dumb.::

::Big and dumb,:: Ezara repeated as they dodged another blast. ::Superion!::

::Forming,:: Silverbolt responded quickly.

::Ratchet! Skjöldur is critically injured,:: Optimus radioed.

::I am not,:: she responded, still giving cover fire.

::You're missing a third of your body - that counts,:: Ratchet responded.

::Injured, not critical,:: the stoic guard corrected, but she still returned Prime's blast riffle to it's original setting and handed it back, grip first.

::Retreat's the best option,:: Jazz radioed to Prime. ::Whiplash's analysis of what Linejack told us says that his gestalt is bound to his orders - if we back off, he won't follow us.::

"Autobots, fall back!" Optimus ordered, beginning to retreat, knowing it was the only thing that would get Skjöldur and Whippoorwill to back off. "We've driven them back," he added, knowing that would help soothe Ezara's reaction to a retreat call.

For once, he didn't need worry about it. He saw her shock in her frame when she spotted the damage to her Guard. Even so, she and Whippoorwill darted over the battlefield in a tight zig-zag before joining him.

"Hers is the worst injury by far," Ezara reported quickly with a flick of her chin towards Skjöldur, who had Ratchet's undivided attention. "Everyone else is walking wounded."

::All Autobots - cease fire, break-off pursuit. Superion, cover our retreat, only fire defensively,:: Optimus ordered him, the group beginning to fall back as he transformed and opened his trailer for Skjöldur.

"In!" Ezara snapped and pointed firmly before the big Guard could object that she wasn't in need of immediate care. "I don't care if you aren't bleeding."

Skjöldur obeyed without argument this time and laid down in the trailer for Ratchet to work, or rather check that her innate damage control systems had worked correctly.

"Whoever designed you was insane," the old Medic muttered as Prime began to roll towards home.

::Just mindful of purpose,:: Skjöldur told him.

"How is she?" Optimus asked as they drove away, Ezara and Whippoorwill directly above him, Superion breaking apart to follow once they were clear.

"She'll live," was all Ratchet was willing to say.

::She will recover fully,:: Skjöldur added, her voice without a trace of pain or concern. ::Designed to do this.::

"That much is true," Whippoorwill admitted. "They are built different. Meant to loose limbs and more without significant issue. Emergency fuel line clamps every foot or so, no pain receptors, decentralized neural net and multiple power cores among other specialized features. She could take much more damage than this and still get herself home."

"Which is no reason she should _have_ to, when there's an alternative," Prime said firmly, heading off the objection to being carried back he was sure was waiting. "It may be your duty to take shots for your charges, but that doesn't mean they can't try to take care of you too."

Half to his surprise, there was no objection from inside his trailer, or from above him.

"It'll just take some getting used to," Whippoorwill said instead. "We haven't had the vorn you have of this war and the breakdown of specialization. It is not normal to us yet."

"Understood," Optimus agreed.

"It's made us stronger in a lot of ways," Wheeljack offered from where he was. "And some of that design work you can blame on me, Ratchet - just watch out for the tertiary fuel lines, those can get in the way sometimes."

"I know her schematics," the CMO snapped. "I wasn't brought on line yestderorn you know."

"Are you _sure_ those two aren't bonded?" Ezara asked Whippoorwill conversationally as the engineer and medic continued to trade insults and advise.

"They aren't bonded," she replied. "Long-time lovers ... that's another matter. Bonds aren't good in war, not for us."

"Besides, we wouldn't be able to stand each other for that long," Wheeljack offered, listening in on the conversation. "It's the age-old argument - don't know that you guys have it the same way."

"I doubt it, between lifespan and programming," Ezara replied, swinging a little closer to him. "It's extremely dangerous to produce a youngling alone, and time is not something we have much of, compared to you."

"No, but you don't necessarily need a mechanic to do the work for you, of either type, from what I can gather," he pointed out. "It's not so much the style of creating new mechs that's the difference, it's the style of everything. Function versus finesse - the Dinobots compared to the Aerialbots," Wheeljack admitted. "Though they would've worked out better with full Sparks - maybe over time we can get 'em up here, after we've finished the bugs in the programming."

"Maybe by then they'll have enough of a mind to choose for themselves," Ezara suggested. "Though by then they might be too alive to accept a Spark."

"If that's the case, I'll count it a success," he admitted. "Let's face it - that was the goal in the first place. A way to create new living mechs without needing Vector Sigma."

"We have done that. They might not be smart yet, but they are alive," Ezara reminded him. "A few more generations worth of creations and they'll probably be as smart as those with Sparks. Just a lot harder to kill."

"Possibly," he agreed. "We'll have to get back to that after we've finished our work on the de-programming from the Forge."

"Definitely," Ezara agreed cheerfully, a slight swoop in her flight path the only outward sign of how excited she was about that particular project. "It won't be worked out soon enough for me."

"How are things progressing?" Optimus asked them, eager for a distraction from the medical procedure going on in his trailer.

"Quite well," Wheeljack answered, his tone nearly as pleased as Ezara's. "It will never be a fast process, but the Spikes are still alive and doing well. Preliminary work on the Shadows trine indicates that the process will be quicker, and more effective, with those who weren't criminally insane to start with. The youngest of the three, Quickfire, only went through the Forge a ganon ago. While the hardwiring is the same, the effects on his processors is much less. There is real hope for many of them."

"Good to hear," Optimus said, his approval clear.

::What do you think their odds are?:: He asked Wheeljack privately. ::The Spikes - with, and without, Ratchet's assistance?::

A deep sigh came first. ::They're not going to make it either way, Prime. We're learning a lot from them about the mechanics of the change. It will save at least one of the Shadow Seekers and it's cutting the research time down tremendously. Even if they survive the procedure, which is likely, they won't survive Singer and Mitrix much longer than that. I don't know what they were told, and I don't want to, but they are expecting two bodies to study when this is over.::

::I know, Wheeljack. What I'm trying to find out is how long before I can ask Ratchet to help, in good conscience, to save lives,:: Prime explained. ::You think it will work after the Spikes, potentially?::

::Yes,:: he answered with as much surety as he could. ::I'll know better then, but I expect they'll be the only fatalities. For all their lack of concern for subject survival and questionable medical morals, those two femmes are amazingly talented at manipulating body and code.::

::Let me know when you are ready to start then. If you're confident he'll live through it, I believe it will be good to have Ratchet involved. After all, he can only make the odds better.::

::Will do, Prime,:: Wheeljack agreed cheerfully. ::I'm as eager as anyone to get to that stage of the process.::


	26. POW Starscream

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_:  
_Rating_:  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary:_

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 26: POW Starscream**

* * *

"Quit bitching, both of you," Starscream snapped at his trine as they made an all-too-familiar path across the storm-filled coastal sky in alt mode. He'd be damned to the Pit if he was going to let the pair of them ruin the only good part of his day.

"There's no good _reason_ to be out here in this weather!" Thundercracker protested. "Nothing's in the air, nothing's _going_ to be, and if we fire our blasters at anything beneath these clouds we'll get blasted before our targets do!"

"Then go back to base!" Starscream snarled at them furiously. "Let me enjoy the sky."

"Gladly," Thundercracker muttered, he and Skywarp both breaking off to get out from under the ominous clouds as quickly as they could without a second thought for their Air Commander or his half-suicidal desire to fly in even the worst storms this disgustingly wet planet could throw at them.

Even before the pair's engines faded from his audio, Starscream had forgotten about their irritating chatter as the wind across his perfectly shaped, thin wings soothed him. Out here, alone on patrol, he could easily forget the almost ornly beatings he received from Megatron, the humiliation he suffered to keep his rank, the frustrations of never being good enough for those he wanted to impress ... no, out here with just the wind and open sky around him, he knew a few moments of peace deep in his processor.

Deeper still, he knew it was the only thing that kept him even remotely sane against the feedback the Forge had created in his systems to perfect the warrior body he commanded.

He'd wondered, at times, if it would be possible to return to normal, even if he wanted to. Some days, he _almost_ did - it was becoming increasingly obvious that his power wasn't about to win him the command position he deserved. It would take Megatron meeting an unfortunate demise instead, and he wasn't having the best of luck arranging for one.

His thoughts were distracted when somebody opened fire on him. Cursing his sensors, he dove, pulling into a roll to find out who it was - though he had a feeling he already knew. Not many on this backwards planet used a rail gun.

::Leave me alone!:: he snarled at his attackers when a second burst nearly took out his engines. ::I have no time for your stupidity.::

::And I have little for your continued escapes,:: Ezara sounded less irate than her words as her jet mode exploded out of the trees behind him, Whippoorwill on her wing and fire still coming from two positions below.

Wonderful. The big one was probably on the ground for the moment, but no telling how long she was going to _stay_ there.

"So the Autobots are doing their own ambushes now?" He said, twisting around to fire on them briefly before he made speed for the clouds. Thundercracker was right about one thing - firing under a storm was suicide. He just hoped that they didn't realize that yet.

"Not Autobots. Tezita," she replied as she powered past him and the little one staid right on his tail.

Neither seemed concerned as their blasters drew lightning right into them. Ezara seemed downright delighted in the storm as she flipped around and dove towards him, targeting his main body.

The part of him that was always calculating odds and searching for reasons objected. Targeting his wings made far more sense.

Of course, it was also harder for him to dodge shots aimed at his main body. He went into one of the low clouds, punching through it as quickly as he could after a thunderbolt, turning back towards base. His sensors warned that the other two had the air pursuit a fraction of a nanoklik before a firestorm of pain lanced through his body from three directions. Two from blasters to his main body, but it was the rail gun to his engines that hurt the most. It wasn't enough damage to force him to land, but it was enough to make him far too open to Ezara and that little dusty red demon that was her new wingbot.

He transformed and headed for the ground and the thick forest land just in from the coast in the foothills. If he could get some cover, maybe he could lose them - skycover apparently wasn't going to do him _any_ good. Why did Primus hate him so today?

He touched down, and only stood straight when a large mass impacted, knocking him to the ground and rolling with him as they crashed through trees and down a slope into a small waterway.

When his optics focused he really couldn't make himself be surprised to see Ezara's base form on top of him, pinning him in the water. It was the pressure on his mental shields as she attacked that had his focus though. He blocked off as much of his mind as he could, slamming his fist into her, trying to knock her back, only to find fits pass smoothly threw her body with no more resistance that it would have through sand.

~It's time we finish this fight,~ she growled directly into his mind with more power than he remembered her having.

~Fine then!~ He replied angrily, opening his mind to her, exposing her directly to the raw chaos and energy in his own, hoping to disrupt her focus enough to get her off of him, or even claim the advantage. All he felt was the pure predator slam into the chaos he offered and consume it, draining his energy faster than Megatron did.

The sudden drain put him into shock, and he barely had the time to be startled by her reaction to the turmoil inside him before she'd sucked his systems absolutely dry. His optics flickered, then dulled as he shut down to preserve his life.

"Remind me not to piss her off," Caurun murmured to no one as he stepped up to pick their catch up and haul him back to the Ark when Ezara waved him off.

With a single motion she stood and flipped the Seeker over to his chest. Two quick slices from a blade that was barely visible and white wings came off, tainting the stream with trickles of energon and internal fluids.

"Now let's take him home," she subspaced his wings as Caurun transformed and let Skjöldur load their crippled prisoner inside.

* * *

"Jazz, have you seen Ezara?" Optimus asked as he approached the SpecOp chatting with Ratchet and Prowl, neither of whom looked pleased.

"She went out flying with Caurun and her Guard," he answered easily.

"They just requested clearance to enter the Ark," Prowl added after a moment. "Red Alert indicated she sounds jubilant."

"She'd better have just enjoyed the trip," Jazz muttered, shaking his head.

"You don't know what she went out to do?" Optimus asked him, surprised, as they started for the opening to the Ark. "You're slipping."

"Out to the coast, along the shore to the Sound and back down along the interior side of the Rockies," Jazz summarized the planned trip. "She took enough firepower with her I wonder if she didn't go hunting instead."

"Hunting?" Ratchet sounded sick.

"Cons," Jazz shook his head. "You aren't going to be needed, Ratchet. One of them would bring it up if there had been injur... oh Primus," his voice dropped to a whisper when he saw Caurun land with a wingless, unconscious Starscream over his shoulder and energon leaking down his frame from the Seeker's wing-joints.

"You were saying I wouldn't be needed?" Ratchet grumbled, moving to the head of the group, going out to check on Starscream's condition.

"Well, none of _us_ were injured," he managed before his optics locked on Whippoorwill with a glare.

She shrugged. "Four to one, hardly dangerous."

"I know what I'm doing," Ezara scowled at Ratchet. "His self-repair systems closed the leaks in a klik."

"Was he offline before, or after, you ripped the wings off?" He asked her irritably, double-checking the work.

"I did not _rip_ his wings off," she answered, crossing her arms and glaring at the medic. "He's barely been hit. I knocked him out with a power drain, not damage. Then I _cut_ his wings off _cleanly_."

"Why bring him here?" Jazz asked, glancing between the hunting party and their prey.

"He _is_ the Decepticon SiC," Ezara looked at him with a deceptively mild expression. "I figured you might get something useful out of him before Whippoorwill and I work him over."

"Get the basic repairs done, then I'll work with him," Jazz told Ratchet. With a quick glance at Ezara, Caurun walked with the CMO to Med-bay without a word.

"Just how do you plan on 'working him over'?" Optimus asked her.

"That falls under things you don't want to know," she told him with a gentle smile. "Same as with Jazz and Whiplash. I won't permanently damage him," she consented without being asked, earning a surprised reaction from Whippoorwill, but nothing more.

"That's a change from your usual attitude towards him," Optimus observed. "What brought it on?"

"I'm listening to you too much," she shrugged, though there wasn't any malice in her voice. "And maybe he deserves better," she added much more quietly, looking down the corridor where Ratchet and Caurun had disappeared with her prisoner with a solemn expression.

"It's possible," he agreed. "It's just good to hear you admitting it," he added, squeezing her shoulder lightly.

The smile she gave him was small and almost sad, with a touch of warning that he did not want to ask for details. With a slight nod she went inside, no doubt to find her prisoner and make sure he didn't go anywhere.

With a light touch he got Whippoorwill to wait briefly. "Where are his wings?"

"In her subspace. They'll be on the wall by morning," she said before hurrying to catch up with her charge.

* * *

Starscream on-lined slowly, the process of post-beating repair all too familiar to him. Yet it wasn't Megatron who'd beaten him this time, and he wasn't on the Nemesis.

He silently checked his systems without moving. Ratchet had done his usual perfect work. Nothing ached, like when Hook and Scrapper fixed him.

He was standing, secured arm and leg spread out. It was as vulnerable a position as possible. Jazz would either be watching him now, or would be in shortly to question him.

A single red line scrolled across his vision, followed by dozens more and the Seeker stiffened. A gasp escaped his vocalizer as his processor scrambled desperately to comprehend it.

He didn't hurt.

It couldn't be true.

"It's true," another all-too-familiar voice spoke in the darkness.

With a shudder the Seeker relinquished his efforts to feign being off-line and powered his optics up to take in his cell - standard issue Autobot - and the speaker - standard issue Autobot Intel officer.

What was standing behind Jazz was anything but anything but standard issue however, and made his energon run cold.

Ezara was relaxed, her back against the wall. She was flipping a glowing blue-white blade as long as her forearm, absently playing with it while her optics were locked on him. Despite the posturing, he was sure she was more than willing to use it on him again, and with less care than in taking her trophy.

Behind her was the monster that took a high-power hit from Megatron's fusion canon square on and then shot back. He couldn't help but think of Soundwave when he looked at her; emotionless, solidly build and hiding behind mask and visor.

The little flitting demon was there too, but standing just behind and to one side of the Autobot.

None of it was good news for him.

"Who," he focused on the only one he was facing that didn't hate him.

"Ezara," Jazz answered, stepping forward with well-trained grace and confidence. "They're on her wall."

"Isn't that enough?" the Seeker glared at her, his red optics glowing brightly. "If you've come to gloat you have no idea..." his voice cut off when his memory banks supplied the fact that not only did she know exactly who set the standard, but what that standard was.

Ezara smirked at him.

"They're just onlookers for now," Jazz brought Starscream's train of thought screeching back to the moment. "I think we both know just how much it's in your best interests to keep it that way."

"She can't do anything worse than what I've survived," Starscream sneered at his captors.

"Care to bet?" Ezara nearly purred.

"You're an Autobot, and I'm an Autobot prison," he snapped. "I know..."

"Then where's my Autobot insignia?" she asked mildly, pushing off from the wall and giving him a slow turn to show off her intricate paintjob, but also make it abundantly clear that her allegiance to the Autobots was not that strong. "You're my prisoner, Starscream. I'm just giving Jazz and Whippoorwill first crack at you as a courtesy for supplying the bars."

"And maybe, if'ya give me somethin' good, I'll be the only one ta interrogate ya," Jazz suggested, already pleased that he had the unusual leverage of something the Seeker seemed honestly afraid of.

"I have nothing to tell you," he spat. "My trine will get me out."

"Skywarp can't," Ezara chuckled softly. "He's blocked from the Ark now."

"We've got an energy field up," Jazz confirmed. "Takes a lot t'run though - which means you've got a time limit. When Prime notices th'drain, you go over t'Ezara so we get t'learn what y'know before we're called off. How long y'think it'll take?" He asked Starscream, stepping up to his side.

The scientist the Seeker had once been knew the answer almost immediately, but the warrior he was growled.

"You're going to have to do better than that, Autobot," Starscream snapped, only to stiffen when Jazz touched him and initiated a link.

"Neural inhibitor. You're as open as when she brought you in," he said patiently.

"I will never _tell_ you anything," he snarled, struggling in vain to pull away from Jazz, or at least to put some kind of defenses in order around the important parts of his memory and processors.

"Have you ever had Linejack go through your skull, Starscream?" Jazz asked him. "You know what that feels like? Did you ever hear that he was one of the ones who taught me?" He insinuated himself into Starscream's processors.

~You've got a better chance with me than you do with her, and you know it. Megatron doesn't _care_ if he gets you back.~

The Seeker stiffened, struggled again, but even though he wouldn't, _couldn't_, admit it, he knew Jazz was telling the truth.

~What ... what do you want?~ Starscream finally asked, still fighting the neural inhibitors and the other's presence in his mind. ~What is worth my life to her?~

~What are these?~ Jazz asked him, transmitting the images he'd seen from what Ezara had gotten before knocking him out. ~What are they, what are they for, and how long before they're functional?~

~Your word, Autobot, that I'll be an Autobot prisoner?" he focused on what was important at the moment.

~My word, Starscream,~ Jazz agreed to the terms, even though he knew he could force the intel out of the jet.

~It's a space bridge, a big one for big cargo shipments,~ Starscream's mental voice dropped a couple octaves and came from the scientist he repressed more often than not. ~He wants it active within ten local days.~

~Why? What cargo is Megatron shipping that's that big, and that urgent?~ Jazz demanded.

~I don't know,~ Starscream answered truthfully. ~He doesn't tell me slag. I just know he's even bitchier than usual about it getting done.~

~Have you noticed the irregularities in your processors?~ Jazz asked him, suddenly switching the topic. ~The power fluctuations?~

~Since when?~ Starscream looked at him warily.

~Before you were captured. Likely since the Forge. Part of the impact of its redesign process.~

~I'm aware of it's effects, yes,~" the Seeker grew curious. ~It's the price of perfecting the warrior.~

~It's the price of tying your brain, Spark chamber, and everything else directly into your weapons - the price of connecting them to an inherently unstable power supply,~ Jazz pointed out. ~Is it a price you wanted to pay, for what you got from it? You built your Nullifier yourself, we know that much.~

The silence in Starscream's mind was somewhat surprising to Jazz. He'd expected a flurry of activity, not the blank look as the Seeker struggled to put to words something beyond thinking.

Eventually he lowered his head in defeat, the only outward sign the conversation was taking place.

~You wouldn't understand,~ he answered, a truly bitter edge to his thoughts along with the fire, borderline insanity and hatred Jazz was used to.

~Y'might be surprised,~ Jazz told him. ~We're trying to find a way to fix it. To stop the constant flux and distortions. Have you ever tried anything like that?~

He laughed, though it was anything but a happy sound. ~Of course not you idiot. That would undo the useful effects too.~

~The useful effects that turned you into Megatron's whipping boy,~ Jazz told him bluntly. ~That made your natural genius secondary to your ability to be a living weapon, and turned you into his fourth in command. And don't bother arguing the point - everybody knows Shockwave and Soundwave both outrank you.~

Starscream growled, but didn't refute him outright.

~Even if it did, I'm still _somebot_ now. My 'genius' was never worth anything to anyone,~ he snapped.

~That's not true, and you know it,~ Jazz countered, his voice dropping to a nearly seductive tone. ~You may have hidden what he really was from Megatron, but I _look_ for such things.~

~I don't know what you're babbling about Autobot.~

~Skyfire,~ Jazz answered the accusation.

The Seeker froze, mind and body, at a name he'd managed to stop thinking even in private.

"How ... how do you know that name?" he whispered, trying to conceal how shaken it made him. The ache in his Spark and memories, good and painful, that had been long suppressed erupted into his consciousness out of his control and made him squirm.

~I know it all, Starscream,~ Jazz reminded him gently. ~Secrets are hard to keep from a spy, and harder to keep from a good medic.~

He looked down at Jazz, his body trembling as he fought to put down the memories of before he'd marked his wings - his _missing_ wings - that were flooding his processor. It all made the spy watching it with him almost insignificant. Almost.

~You were Spark-bound, a very long time ago. Knowing that, it was not difficult to work out who,~ Jazz continued to the shaking mind he was woven into.

"Stop it!" Starscream screeched, thrashing ineffectually against his restraints. "He's dead! They're _both_ dead!" he raged in defiance. "I was _nothing_ before the Forge!"

"Perceptor still talks about your accomplishments," Jazz continued, backing out into the physical realm. "What's left of that mind now, Starscream? How much of it are you losing to the fact that you can't _think_ straight?"

"More than I had left before the Forge," he hissed, still trembling. His red optics glowed brightly, all trace of restraint and sanity gone from him, his cooling fans cycling fast. "If you know about _him_ you know what he left me with."

"And you think he'd have wanted you to do all of this, because you didn't want to deal with losing him?" Jazz shook his head. "Have a few ganon taken the edge off it? Given y'the chance to think things through?"

"I. Am. Decepticon." The Seeker shook, unable to control the tremors caused by memories and pain nearly as fresh as the orn it happened floored his processors.

::What is he going on about?:: Ezara asked privately.

::Losing a Spark-bonded mate is fatal most of the time,:: Jazz answered, his mind solemn. ::Those that don't die are shadows of their former self at most, and generally suicidal on some level.::

::That explains a lot about him,:: she murmured in what might almost be sympathy.

::It does,:: Jazz agreed. ::I doubt we'll get much more from him at this point, except possibly an agreement to undergo the reprogramming process. I'd rather have the Shadow Trine as examples first though. Do you think you can get more from him, without going outside Optimus' boundaries?::

::I don't know how much I can get, but I'd like to try,:: she said seriously. ::Anything in particular you'd like to know?::

::Any developments he's made for Megatron outside of his contributions as Flight Commander. We don't need to find out that Megatron has any more new toys than the space bridges.::

Ezara nodded, watching Starscream's reaction to her stepping forward, into his personal space, as Jazz backed off.

"Going to take something more this time?" Starscream rasped out, glaring at her.

"I can," she purred softly with a light caress along the side of his face. "Or I can give you something back."

"It's a bit late for you to return my dignity," he replied acidly. "Did you tell them my trine ambushed you? Or maybe that we were coming towards the Ark when you attacked me?"

"Sh'already told us sh'went out hunting," Jazz observed. "So don't worry 'bout that."

"And that it was four to one when you were taken down," Ezara added, her fingers sliding down to his chin. "It may not be safe for me to fly alone, but it isn't for your kind either. I was referring to your lovely wings," she cooed as she walked around behind him to stroke the freshly sealed connections on his back. "You do look better with them on."

"Are you on an energon high?" He asked her irritably, glancing over at Jazz, trying to figure out what was up with her, why she'd made the sudden twist from wanting him dead at any cost the last time they'd met to... this.

The spy was being decidedly unhelpful, as expected.

"No," her purr was soft, seductive and more than a little frightening to the part of him that remembered just how manipulative her code could be. "You have something I want. I have something you want," her fingers played along his back and hip, setting off sensor nodes in a decidedly pleasurable way. "I can take what I want, but it is more efficient to trade."

"And just what _do_ you want?" He asked her warily.

"For you wings, details on what you've worked on since you woke up on Earth," she continued the pleasant thrumming and touches as she walked around to face him again and caught his chin to pull him forward into a forceful kiss. ~And indulge me tonight,~ she added through the touch. "For your freedom, you agree to Jazz's proposal."

"What proposal?" He asked her bluntly, focusing on that second part as he tried to pull back from her - the part that sounded the most like it would probably end up with him getting melted down or blasted to atoms.

"I told you we can undo the damage the Forge did," Jazz explained patiently. "The war is almost over. There is a place for scientists again. The process comes with a full pardon from Prime."

"That will be so useful when Megatron reduces me to atoms!" Starscream snarled at him angrily.

"It is quite unlikely Megatron will still be alive when the process is finished," Ezara pointed out in a sultry voice. "I might even save the killing blow for you, if you make it worth my patience."

"Assuming you can keep me alive when you cut my spark chamber and _brain_ off from all power," Starscream said bluntly. "I might not have been working on it for however long, but I can guess the basics!"

"It's quite survivable," Ezara promised, sliding her glossa along his jaw line as one hand slid down his cockpit glass with an expert touch for arousal despite his resistance. "Autobot medical technology and knowledge is far in advance of Decepticon methods."

"It's not done all at once," Jazz picked up. "The process is slow, but effective. We can keep the brain alive outside the body systems for several joor, sometimes longer. I've seen that. Sparks are even easier to hook up to an external power supply while the work is done."

"It's worked on someone?" Starscream asked, not because he was considering being reduced to a worthless commoner again, but trying to avoid being left alone with the amorous femme for as long as possible. "I want to talk to them."

"It's working, but they aren't to survive it," Ezara purred as she continued her slow exploration of his frame, setting off pleasure in every sensor node she found, and she knew his frametype well already. "Hotspike and Coldspike are under a death sentence."

"Murder by medical experiment?" Starscream taunted Jazz. "The high and mighty Autobots - does Prime know about _that_?"

"My project," Ezara pulled his face towards hers. "And yes, he does. If they die in it, they were going to die anyway and lives will be saved by what we learn. If they survive, the full process has been proven and they'll be executed. That _is_ how military medical research works, you know."

"And if you think I'm going to _agree_ to let you start ripping my circuits apart, you're crazier than Megatron!" He growled at her.

"That's fine," she chuckled, a sound that reminded him _far_ too much of the warlord. "So you won't fly free. But will you have your wings back?"

"If you _touch_ my circuits, I'll find a way to make you regret it," he promised her ... though he didn't turn down the offer.

It seemed to be enough, because she smiled, and it wasn't a look that promised pain. "Then begin by making a data pack of what you've designed and worked on since you woke on Earth. Then I'll see about your wings," she walked behind him to trace her fingers along the seams where they should connect.

"I'll prepare it for you - I'll need some time though," he told her cautiously.

"Then you prepare it, and I'll see to your new wings," she said with another kiss, one he didn't resist quite so much, and pulled away with a lick to his bottom lip. "I'll be back for the rest of the payment later."


	27. Mission Failure

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_:  
_Rating_:  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary:_

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 27: Mission Failure**

* * *

Jazz worked quietly around the rocky, dusty landscape near Megatron's latest project. It was big, whatever this antennae construction was, and on principle it had to go down. Two charges set, one to go.

"Die, Autobot!" A snarl above him made every servo in his frame tense before he leaped out of the way of Skywarp's blasts.

His blaster was in hand in a flash, and he was firing, keeping his back to the antenna, hoping it would cut back on Skywarp's willingness to risk missing him.

"Ravage, Laserbeak, Rumble, Frenzy: Operation Neutralize," Soundwave's monotone order cut through the darkness to Jazz's left.

He turned and fired, then leaped away, transforming. The mission was a wash now - escaping was the best option; get out of here, and hope he'd done enough damage to slow them down for now, until he could come back with a full team.

How had they spotted him? He needed to get to open terrain - then he could outpace them, as long as he could avoid Skywarp.

Laser and bullet crossfire ripped the road apart ahead of him and warned of a second Seeker in the sky above him. A heavy cannon from behind shattered his left driver side wheel and part of the axle. It was enough to force a transformation.

Then Ravage was on him, the small Con's jaws tearing into exposed wires with the experience to know what to snap to disable a bot the fastest.

Jazz turned, trying to knock Ravage off, but Frenzy's sonic blast ripped through the circuits and wires in his arm, shutting it down before it could do more than thud dully against the black Decepticon's frame.

One more bite, and reality went black for the Autobot.

* * *

When Jazz on-lined, he knew he was slag-deep in trouble. His entire frame ached. The repairs to make him functional, while perfect, were not of the type Ratchet did. He was secured to a table in an all-too familiar room.

Soundwave's workshop.

Slagit all.

"You will tell me what I wish to know, Autobot," the Decepticon's monotone was even more disturbing than usual.

"Rust in the Pit, Soundwave," he grated out even as he locked his memory banks and purged everything of value that he could for when his defenses were broken.

"Good."

The single word, delivered without emotion, made Jazz's pump freeze. He knew he'd survived this before, everything Soundwave could throw at him and worse from Whiplash, Linejack and Shockwave as well, but it didn't make it any more likely he'd survive _this_ time if it lasted.

The only thing he knew without question was that he could, and would, prevent Soundwave from getting anything useful out of him until he escaped.

Soundwave touched his mind against Jazz's, testing the Autobot's defenses and beginning to insinuate himself into his systems. They were as he expected; elegant, flawless and secure. He took a brief moment to admire the system he was about to destroy.

"Resistance will only make this more difficult for you," he told him smoothly in Cybertronian. "We will begin with how you learned about the Bridge."

"I saw'it, ya half-wit," Jazz scoffed in English.

"Unlikely: There is no reason for you to be in the area without knowing," Soundwave pointed out, sending a pulse of sound through the metal walls of Jazz's frame that made his entire body resonate painfully.

Jazz bit back a groan, though he knew full well that Soundwave was integrated into his systems enough to know it worked.

"What was the source of your intelligence," Soundwave repeated the question, vibrating one of Jazz's legs, confining it so that he could focus and move the pain around inside his body.

"Who do you _think_ I've got?" Jazz snapped.

"Possibility: Captive Decepticon. Additional possibility: Traitor or deep-cover operative inside Nemesis," Soundwave informed him, focusing a pulse of sound through his casing and cracking it over his leg.

Jazz chuckled, then hissed in pain. "Wouldn't you like to know," he managed a smirk and quickly hid the realization that the space bridge was a much bigger deal than he'd originally anticipated. "I have sources everywhere."

"Then are the Autobots preparing for the arrival of the Quintesson armada?" Soundwave asked him, watching his reactions carefully.

Shock. Fear. Disbelief.

Exactly the reaction order he predicted.

"We'll be ready," Jazz grated out through the random shocks of pain that were making it ever-harder to think. "You won't be."

"We won't need to be," Soundwave said confidently, analyzing the response and quickly reaching the conclusions he'd already been nearly certain of. The true purpose of the Space Bridge was known to all those who could have told Jazz of them by now - except for Starscream. "Does Prime know you came here?" He asked in his monotone, starting to work more with Jazz's systems directly, adjusting his power flow, increasing it in certain systems, decreasing it in others.

Static crackled from Jazz's vocalizer briefly before he got his systems sorted out from Soundwave's tweaking, if only briefly. "Yes."

The underlying reaction labeled the response as accurate, though they both knew it would be days before anyone thought of the spy as missing.

"There will be time," Soundwave decided, deactivating Jazz's optics, stopping the operative from seeing his preparations as Rumble and Frenzy brought out his tools to work with.

"Begin deconstruction process Alpha Six," he instructed them, connecting himself entirely to Jazz's processors where he could analyze his reactions and make the best use of them.

* * *

"Prime, Megatron is hailing us," Red Alert called out, instantly grabbing everyone's attention in the control room.

"Put him through," Optimus said, sitting down in his command center and turning it to face the screen. "Maybe now we'll find out what he's gearing up for."

"Ah, Prime," the Decepticon leader's voice oozed false congeniality. "I believe you have something of mine. I'd like it back."

"I assume you're talking about Starscream," Optimus acknowledged. "And why should I return him? As it stands, he's been treated for his wounds and is being kept as Ezara's prisoner."

Though subtle, he didn't miss the surprise, and rage, the flashed across the Decepticon's face at the news.

"Then tell Ezara that I have something she might want back before it turns grey," he snapped.

"And just what might that be?" She asked over Prime's shoulder as she walked up.

Instead of speaking, Megatron stepped back to show most of his powerful frame and reached off screen. His hand returned pulling a barely-standing stasis-cuffed black and white mech with two thin blue stripes still visible despite the extensive damage to his paint and parts of the frame under it. Dull blue optics looked at the screen almost blankly, the combination of stasis cuffs, pain and damage making awareness of the outside world minimal.

Behind him, Optimus felt Ezara bristle and wondered if Megatron really had a death wish or if he knew something Optimus didn't.

"I assume you're proposing a trade," Optimus said gravely, trying to keep things as focused between the two of them - relatively safely, as he could.

"Yes. Your spy for my seeker," he nodded curtly and pushed Jazz off screen, presumably into someone's grip, since they didn't hear him hit the floor.

Ezara growled.

"Agreed," she spoke before Optimus could. "Where and when?"

"Here," he sent them a set a coordinates not far from the Ark. "In two joor."

"Agreed," her voice was tight with a fury that rolled off her frame in palatable waves.

"Ezara," Prime said, raising his hand and looking back at the screen. "I want proof that he _is_ still alive, Megatron," he said coldly.

"You wound me with such distrust," Megatron said with mock hurt before he looked off screen and beckoned his prisoner forward. "Say something to your leader."

With an unsteady step, Jazz made the short distance to stand in front of the camera without support. It took him a moment longer to organize his processor enough to speak, and he couldn't hide how much he hurt when he did.

"I'm 'live, 'rime, 'oe'Emir," Jazz managed to get out despite the static from his damaged vocalizer. "Mos'l'a co'm..." he lost track of his words. "S'aggin' cuvs," he hissed, trying to clear his processors.

"Satisfied?" Megatron asked evenly and he leaned back in his chair. "I'll even let your medic look at him before you turn Starscream over," he offered smugly. "I know _you'll_ keep your word."

"We'll make the trade," Optimus agreed grimly. "At these coordinates though," he added, selecting and transmitting them.

Megatron considered the location briefly and nodded. "Agreed. See you in two joor," he said before closing the transmission.

"Do have procedure in place for this type of security breach?" Ezara asked, her voice politely low.

"Prowl has already implemented it," he nodded and stood. ::Ratchet, set up for Jazz being seriously injured. The exchange is in two joor.::

::Jazz?:: the surprise in the medic's voice was unmistakable. ::Oh frag ... prisoner trade?::

::Yes,:: Optimus confirmed as evenly as he could. ::From the look, he's in bad shape, but not critical. Walking wounded, if barely.::

::I'll be ready,:: Ratchet promised grimily.

::You're coming on the trade,:: Optimus told him. ::Megatron offered to let you check him out before we hand Starscream over. I expect you to ensure he's not only alive, but still Jazz.::

::I've been doing this since before you were Prime,:: the CMO responded grumpily. ::I know what to check for.::

::Good.:: "I'll see to Starscream. Ratchet is getting ready. You handle security." He looked at Ezara, since her Guard would already be a key point of it.

She nodded, not trusting her voice at the moment and pinged Teletraan-1 for Prowl's location before stalking off to plan with him, her Guard on edge and on her heal.

* * *

Optimus Prime rolled up to the coordinates he'd chosen, a place with better than average cover against an air strike for the surrounding fifty miles around the Ark. A constant stream of data came from above; Ezara feeding him what she, the Guard and the Aerialbots detected as they patrolled the sky. Ratchet, Blaster, Ironhide, Brawn, Huffer, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker here with him to present a force that was ill advised to attack. Bluestreak, Hound, Trailbreaker and Bumblebee were set up as snipers while Prowl held command of the Ark with the remainder of the Autobot forces on Earth.

He listened to Ezara with more than absent interest in her data. The calmness, the absolute professionalism, in her voice was disturbing given what he knew she was like. She should be raging, pushing her airborne form's speed and agility limits, or at the very least opened fire on the five Seekers - Thundercracker, Skywarp and the Rainmakers - that appeared shortly after they had.

But she didn't. The airborne fighters of each side made passes, crisscrossed paths and worked to counter any advantage the others gave their side in a given moment. It was a dance he had to wonder if it wasn't instinctive in fliers. Yet there were no taunts, no threats, no weapon's fire. Ezara held herself and her team in tight check, and he couldn't help but wonder if the Decepticon Seekers weren't a little afraid of things going badly once Jazz was turned over.

He'd never order an attack, but he couldn't be as sure about her, especially given who was being turned over by both sides, and Jazz's condition. No matter how calm and collected she was acting, she was furious.

He transformed, his trailer remaining as it contained Starscream locked in medical stasis, and lifted his optics to see Megatron leading Astrotrain and the Constructicons in. Right on time and in perfect order for a prisoner exchange, they landed.

Megatron paused at Astrotrain's side door and pulled the still stasis-cuffed Jazz out. The SpecOps officer's condition made the walk slow, causing Optimus to reach the center point with Ratchet first.

The rumble of Ezara's distinctive engines above and the glance Megatron gave the sky were the only warnings of her flyby less than a wing's length above them. At this range, the tension in her frame was clear, and so was the slight way it relaxed when Jazz looked up and cocked her a smile.

It was all he had the energy to spare, and he gratefully collapsed in Ratchet's arms to be carried a few lengths back and examined.

"You know my word is good on certain things, Prime," Megatron chuckled, his eyes glowing brightly in amusement at the Autobot show of force. "Even in war, some conventions are worth maintaining as inviolate."

"I'm glad you recognize that," Optimus said grimly, opening his trailer for Starscream to be released once Ratchet confirmed that it really was Jazz they were retrieving. "Our end of the agreement, Megatron."

::He'll recover,:: Ratchet radioed his leader as he transformed so Jazz could be loaded. ::It looks worse than it is.::

::Permission to follow Ratchet,:: Ezara asked.

::Granted,:: he told her, once against wondering just what was going on in her processors.

The Decepticon lord raised an optic ridge when Starscream stumbled from the trailer, his wings new; unpainted and unmarked.

The Seeker wasted little time in making it to his master. Despite it, he gave Megatron an ill-concealed bewildered look. He remained silent however.

"I will see you on the battlefield next," Megatron promised as he turned and launched into the air. "Decepticons! Transform and rise up."

"Autobots - transform and roll out," Optimus announced, changing back and driving back to take the trailer onto his mount. ::Maintain surveillance in case of attack,:: he told the Aerialbots and snipers in position.

* * *

Optimus gave himself as much time as he could manage before stopping by the Med-bay. Reports done, Prowl debriefed, Prowl debriefed him, some energon and a last check to make sure the Decepticons really had retreated as promised.

In all, he managed to avoid the first four hours, and what he hoped was the worst of Ratchet's temper. Hopefully the worst of Jazz's lover's anxieties as well. Blaster he could handle. Ezara, especially a well-behaved, respectful one like today, he had no clue what she'd do next.

He wasn't at all surprised to see that Ezara and Blaster were there. He had no doubt the pair had arrived with Ratchet and hadn't left. He was more than a little surprised that his CMO was letting her stand at the operating table and work on her lover while he and First Aid were there.

Whippoorwill and Skjöldur were between the door and their charge, but out of the way of the three working on Jazz.

"Hey Prime," Blaster greeted him, being the only one in the room who cared that he'd walked in.

"How is he doing?"

"Looks bad, sounds worse," he shuddered slightly. "But she's calmed down a lot since she got her hands in there. I still can't read the medics."

Optimus took in the subtle body language he was far more familiar with and nodded to himself. "It's going well."

"I hope so," Blaster agreed. "They're not sayin' anything though - not even comm chatter that I can pick up on, and that's saying a lot. Looks like Soundwave's handiwork though, especially from the debris I saw come out of there."

"It is," Whippoorwill made the first indication either Guard was paying them any mind. "The rest is Jazz doing his job as a prisoner. Even with the backup to download, she'll be in his head for orn sorting it out."

"What does she know..." Blaster felt himself unaccountably riled.

"She's SpecOps too. Mirage'll be working on him too, later," she said evenly. "And Whiplash, during the next energon shipment."

"_What happened to him_?" Blaster asked her.

::They're not talking because they don't want to risk Megatron hearing anything important,:: Optimus told him, keeping the message private to Blaster, Whippoorwill and Skjöldur. ::Think about it, Blaster - if you we had captured Soundwave, and couldn't get anything from him on interrogation, and we knew we were giving him back to Megatron for some reason, what would we try to do?::

::Bug him,:: Blaster granted, frowning as he watched the scene still going on. ::Why _didn't_ we do that with Starscream?::

::I felt it wouldn't have done any good,:: Optimus explained. ::Megatron would suspect something like that, since I wasn't bound to _not_ do it, and it would have undermined what ground we _might_ have made with Starscream while Jazz was working on him.::

::The bugs are easy to take out, same with the interrogation damage,:: Whippoorwill easily dropped into the silent communication method. ::If you don't know what they do to themselves when captured, it's not my place to tell you. I can tell you that putting it right is not an easy, or quick, process.::

::Memory dump,:: Blaster guessed with a frown. ::Just hope he remembered to run a backup before he went. Does anybody know what he was after yet?::

::Yes,:: Prime said grimly. ::And it seems as if the subtle approach will not work this time. Let me know if anything changes.::

::Will do,:: Blaster promised. ::Let us know before you head out,:: he added. ::I want in on it, if there's a place for me.::

::If you won't do more good putting Jazz's mind back together when we go, you'll be there,:: he agreed with a gentle squeeze to the communication officer's shoulder before letting go and turning to leave.

"It's going to be a long decaorn," Blaster sighed to himself, knowing no one else in the room was inclined to talk to him.


	28. Trusting a Spy

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Skyfire/Starscream, Skyfire/Ezara  
_Rating_: PG-13  
_Codes_: Het, Slash  
_Summary:_

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 28: Trusting a Spy**

* * *

Mirage sat quietly in the corner of the common room, watching the rougher socializing of mechs who couldn't survive in the Towers any better than he did here. Even after so long, after all of Jazz's efforts, he knew he was tolerated more out of fear of his leader than acceptance of his honesty.

He should have just grabbed his cube and head to his quarters. He was tired and his processors ached from the efforts to right Jazz's mind. He was up and about, but still had a lot of integrating to go before he'd be fit to go into the field again.

Five days without Jazz and the Ark was getting restless, hostile. Again.

He tried to tell himself it was just nerves, but he knew better. He knew what a lot of them didn't have the nerve to say just yet, too - they were wondering if he was responsible for what had happened. Jazz didn't get caught often, and one of his officers turning over the intel was the easiest explanation.

Except that _Mirage_ hadn't even known where he was going. Jazz saw to things like that. Oh, Prime knew, and Prowl. At least of the basics. Ezara probably did too, given the amount of time she'd spent with Jazz and Starscream while the Seeker was their guest.

"So'r you disappointed, 'r relieved he's alive?" Cliffjumper's overcharge slur snapped Mirage out of his thoughts and towards the minibot glaring at him.

"What do you think?" Mirage asked him with a glare of his own. "Of course I'm glad he's back - if I'd known he was _missing_ I'd have been out trying to _get_ him back before Megatron contacted us."

"Just how does Intel's SiC _not_ know his CO's missing?" Gears joined the attack.

"Yeah, if he didn't come back, you'd be in charge of the sneaks," Cliffjumper puffed up.

"Because I was on patrol when he left," Mirage scoffed. "A few days isn't a long time to be out, and if Optimus didn't think I needed to know what it was about, it's not my place to argue with him."

He could pretty much run the script by memory. Sure, there were slight variations, but especially when the two minibots were involved, it didn't fluctuate much.

"Now this is a new one," Ezara's sharp tone surprised them all into looking at her as she glared down at the two bots well under half her height. "Blaming an Autobot when you have two perfectly good targets that aren't."

"He's been at this since the beginning," Gears shot back. "Thinks he's better than everybody because of who commissioned himm..." his voice ratcheted up several notches when she grabbed him by the head and lifted him to optic level.

"Or _perhaps_," she hissed, her armor vibrating with the sound and optics flashing with real anger. "He has better uses for his energy than trying to understand people who want nothing to do with him."

"Ezara, let him go," Mirage said, standing up. "He's half-right, really. I do think I'm better than a lot of them here, just not because of who commissioned me. I'm a better shot, more skilled, faster, smarter, and better in hand-to-hand than the majority of them. I don't _enjoy_ combat, but I engage in it when I have to. And I've personally brought more Decepticon plots crashing down - literally - than almost anyone else here. So yes, I do think I'm better than a lot of you. But it's not because you're a bunch of laborers and grunts turned war heroes. It's for purely objective reasons - the reasons I have my rank, and the reason that Jazz trusts me to have it, and to handle Intel while he's out on missions or recovering. Think a bit about what you're saying about _him_ before you accuse me of being a traitor - and about Optimus, since he approved Jazz's choice."

He caught a look in Ezara's optics, however brief, and knew exactly where her rage had come from. It wasn't for him; it was for the challenge to her lover. In an odd way, he approved of it more that way. She wasn't breaking up a fight; she was defending the reputation of someone she was close to.

She gave a low growl and let the minibot drop from where she'd held him.

"You're entirely too nice to them, you know," she grumbled at Mirage in an almost affectionate manner.

"It usually helps keep the peace," he chuckled lowly. "We should probably leave the room though; check on how Jazz is doing soon."

"Asking for y..." she turned and froze, her optics widening in open, unabashed fear of the giant white and red flier who walked in. Without question Skjöldur stepped between her and the mech even larger than the heavy fighter-bomber.

"What's wrong?" Skyfire asked, looking nervously around the room that was now focused on him.

"Mechs from her world tend to be ranked by size," Mirage stepped forwarded with the explanation as Ezara pulled her wits together. "She's just a little startled to meet somebody so big - short of one of the Gestalts, you're the biggest she's seen," he told the mech. "Glad to see Ratchet's turned you loose though. Ezara, this is Skyfire, he signed on after he realized the Decepticons had him fooled. Damn shame we didn't have him about a decaorn ago."

"Hello, Skyfire," she extended her hand to the larger mech in an honest effort to be social. "You're a Seeker?"

"Technically, my frametype is Seeker, yes," he nodded and accepted the handshake. "I'm a shuttle and scientist, not a combat design."

That lit her optics and her manner relaxed almost completely. "A scientist?" came out a near-purr. "Specialties?"

"Exploration and energy conversion systems," he said. "Right along with Starscream - I understand what you were saying about wishing I'd been here earlier. Are you a scientist as well?" He asked Ezara.

"No," she shook her head with a chuckle. "Not really. I just value them, especially in wartime. You knew Starscream before he was a Decepticon, then?"

"Before the Decepticons even existed," Skyfire acknowledged. "Honestly, I didn't even really know who they were, when I woke up. We were split up on a deep-space exploratory mission, when I ended up crashing in the arctic."

"I'll go see what Jazz wants," Mirage told her before heading out, sure she'd remember what it mattered.

"So you could fill in a lot about him before he turned Con," Ezara's optics glittered as she slid an arm around his and guided him to a table even as she shooed her Guard away, even if it only meant being at the next table over. "Back when he was sane."

"Back before he'd turned himself into one big science experiment," Skyfire agreed. "Always thought that was something for old holo-vids, but it looks like he did it - how much do you know about what happened to him?"

"A lot of the fundamentals, very little of the specifics," she said as they sat down and she brought a cube of brilliant blue energon and two glasses from her subspace. "We know a great deal of what the Forge does from the first two Decepticons we captured to experiment on, but they weren't Seeker-frames. The trine we are working with now are telling us more about what it does to Seekers, but we haven't gotten very far with them yet.

"The condensed version is that every combat-related system - movement, weapons, balance, transformation, targeting, analytical - pretty much everything, is tied directly into the Spark chamber and processors. It makes them faster in combat, and drives them clinically insane in short order from the feedback."

"And he did this _willingly_?" Skyfire asked, sounding sick at the idea.

"As far as anyone can tell," she nodded. "Jazz offered to have it undone and a full pardon when we had him. He was anything but receptive to the idea." She paused briefly. "Jazz said something else too, that Starscream was your bonded."

"We were," Skyfire admitted. "It wasn't something we made a particularly big deal of that people saw. It wouldn't have been a particularly good professional move for either of us," he explained. "Not that most people who knew either of us doubted it."

Ezara smiled, a warm, somewhat wistful look that lasted only briefly before she plunged on. "How did it break, with both of you alive?"

"My prolonged stasis and the range would have strained it to the point where he couldn't feel it, and I expect the Forge did the rest. We both survived the actual break because it was stretched so thin at the time that the shock was minimal." Skyfire spoke softly. "Extraordinary circumstances to say the least, but not unheard of. It is completely broken now, by whatever method," he looked down at his barely touched high-grade, something that even before the war would have been a rare treat for him.

"I'm sorry," Ezara's voice held more honesty than he expected from her reputation.

"What's done is done," Skyfire looked up with bright blue optics that glowed with the intensity of his grief. "He's no longer that mech."

"Tell me about that mech," Ezara smiled weakly, trying to encourage despite the pain in her own Spark she refused to give voice to. "The one you bonded with."

He leaned back, trying to think of how to put it.

"You're a fighter, mostly?" He asked her. "An arena warrior, if I remember hearing right?"

"Yes," she nodded. "From the streets to the arena to military leader," she somehow summed up her life in that short sentence.

"Imagine meeting somebody who thought about things exactly the way you did, or at least seemed to. Somebody who could match you in a fight, who had the same way of being two moves ahead of their opponents," he paused briefly at the almost dreamy look on her face and the soft, thrumming hum she made. "But not just somebody who could match you that way - somebody who made up for your weaknesses, and whose own weak points were things you compensated for. A literal other half.

"Starscream was close to it - brilliant, creative, with a keen analytical mind. He had a way of seeing the inherent limits of things, and of testing them. He was the perfect match to my own methods - I was more careful, more methodical, but that slowed my results with the progressive steps. He had an instinctive way of knowing _just_ how far something could be pushed before it was sure to give out - it made for a lot of explosions in his labs, when they went too far, but it also made for a lot of breakthroughs in the energy field."

"It must have been incredible, being that close to someone you partnered so well with," Ezara's wistfulness was undeniable now, but so was a little but of hope from somewhere. "How long were you together?"

"A couple ganon, before I was lost - he was starting to rub off on me a little too much, I suppose," he chuckled slightly. "I pushed my limits, and it didn't work out. If it hadn't happened, things might have turned out entirely differently... what about you? You seem like somebody who knows what it's like."

"Pushing limits and loss, yes," she nodded faintly. "My forces lost the war for Lydrom, my homeworld. I was on the run, hunted, for the last fourteen vorn, and ended up here. Sixty-nine vorn old and I went from the street to world leader and to street thief again," her chuckle was a strange mixture of humor, grief and irritation. "In less than a metacycle I'll either rule Lydrom again, or die trying. Nothing personal though," she glanced up at the large flier. "Even the few I trust back home aren't friends, much less anything more. That's the kind of thing that only exist in myths for types like me."

"That much, and so young?" He asked her curiously. "Things must progress much more quickly on your world. You don't think you're going to get the chance to meet somebody who complements you like that?"

"It's rare for a warrior to survive a full ganon, and civilians with five are nearly unheard of," she told him easily, sipping her energon and letting it's potent charge sooth the ache in her Spark for what she saw all around her and knew wasn't meant to be hers. "No, I know who my choices are, and none are like that. My bonding is a political arrangement; for the good of Lydrom and her people. All that is expected is that he can temper the worst of my rage and see to the facets of ruling that I am ill suited to. A talented politician and a strong warrior make Lydrom prosper, whether they care about each other or not."

"Arranged bondings; not something I've ever particularly favored," he admitted. "Of course, even a bonded couple don't have to be together, it just seems largely useless. Is there some other connection for your people, with the bond?"

"It's largely about controlling the Toe'Emirc, the warrior half of the government. Protecting civilians from us, and seeing to their needs. Toe'Emirc are not, by nature, good at seeing beyond the military and battle. It's not what we're there for. Quick to take offense, quicker to strike and kill with a well-made plan. Good traits for what we're there to do, but ill-suited to a world at peace. It's a balancing act to ensure that everyone has what they need, military and civilian.

"And no, we don't have to be together. Some Toe'Emirc have been lucky and truly loved their E'on, the civilian leader they're bonded to. Most have not. I am free to seek lovers as I will, even bond with them if I choose. I do have some choice in who the E'on is. From a candidate pool of those who can run the civilian side of government, but it is some level of choice."

"It seems very difficult, but I understand," he nodded. "At least the basics. Is there anything in particular you'd like me to tell you about him?" He asked.

Ezara smiled slightly, letting her focus swing back to Starscream. "For now, what were his faults?"

"Ambition, really - no surprise there, from what I understand of what he's like now," Skyfire sighed. "He enjoyed pushing the limits, stretching things as far as they could go. Like I said, it sometimes meant he made major advancements - other times, it meant that he screwed things up badly. He could do a lot of damage without meaning to, all in the name of improving his standing and reputation. Never seemed to realize how much it hurt him at the same time."

Despite the words, Ezara couldn't help the small, all-too-understanding smile that crept across her face. "It is a very easy thing to do, when all you want is one thing in life," she paused and glanced up at him. "Not that long ago I was told that Starscream and I would either rule the universe together, or kill each other, we are so alike. He wasn't sane enough at the time for me to tolerate. What did he want when you knew him, where was his ambition taking him?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure," he sighed. "At first, I'd thought that it was recognition by the scientific community, but he _had_ that and he still wanted more. I think he was hoping for a point where he'd be recognized by the higher ups outside the scientific community with making weapons. I never understood that part of him."

Ezara hummed, thinking on that as she nursed her drink. "It may well be that he's one of those that will never be content with what they have. Some need _more_, no matter how much or how little they have."

"That was probably a part of it," he admitted. "It certainly is now. His being arrogant isn't new either," he said. "He's always thought he knew how to run things better. Sometimes he was right, or at least I thought so - it's just that his ideas never had much chance politically."

"His current ones stand even less chance," Ezara nodded thoughtfully. "So he was never a well-mannered citizen, just better controlled back then?"

"It's not like that," he sighed. "He really _did_ have good ideas, ones that could have revolutionized Cybertron's defenses and energy systems. Things that would have meant what we were developing was actually useful on a large scale. It was just a matter of them not getting along with the idea of laying new power systems down in the Canyons, and several other unoccupied areas that have certain historical importance."

Ezara was quiet for a long moment as she thought about that, then considered the shuttle for a longer moment.

"Do you still love him?" she finally asked, her expression concealed by her glass.

"Who he was, yes," Skyfire nodded, watching her carefully. He knew that look from others. It was one of consideration when the stakes were very high. "That's all I know of him, and I can't be sure how much of it is left, but he _was_ a good mech."

She nodded, still deep in thought with her attention on the fine high-grade swirling in her glass.

"Ever regret bonding?" she asked quietly.

"Everybody does, once in a while," he pointed out, only to realize that she was young enough, and facing an arranged bonding, that it was a truly valid question on many levels. "Having somebody that close all the time makes it hard to keep secrets... you have fights, and you know every single thing they're thinking about saying, but have the self-control not to. Every relationship has its problems. But have I ever regretted it enough, for more than a cycle or two, that I sincerely wished I hadn't? No," he said seriously.

"If that Starscream, the one who lost you on Earth, woke up, would you do it again?" she asked, this time her optics locked on him and her expression unreadable.

"Yes, I would," he agreed. "I don't know how much of him is left intact, but if there was a way to fix him, I'd do it again." He paused, looking down at her. "_Is_ there a way?"

"Yes, though it's arguably as high-risk as what damaged him in the first place," Ezara nodded, her voice thoughtful and somewhat distant. "The physical changes we're confident we can correct with little risk. The mental damage ... it's far more likely that we'll have to wipe everything from a before the trigger-point on. In Starscream's case, that would be loosing you by our best guess. He'd wake up with his last memory being of the search. You'd need to convince him to bond again, and soon afterwards."

"If I didn't, would he be likely to relapse, or are you simply concerned about the damage of the bond 'breaking' again?" He asked her.

"Concerned he'd fly back to Megatron and two years work will be blown out of the sky," she put it a little more bluntly than she had to. "I guess that would fall under relapse. By your own admission he wasn't the most agreeable of mechs even when he was sane. He'll need a very strong reason to stay put when he knows that he's personally deactivated friends of everyone around him, and some," she motioned towards Gears and Brawn, "will be anything but gentle about reminding him. They're not even convinced all Autobots are on their side. A former Decepticon will be even more of a target."

"Years... how long would that translate to?" He asked her a little sheepishly. "I'm afraid that I don't have the local timeframes pinned down yet. But I understand the risk... of course, we'll have to catch him before any of this matters."

"A metacycle is five point two seven years, local stellar cycles. A year is also 365 days, or local solar cycles." she gave him the basic math. "Catching him isn't that hard. It's _keeping_ him that's proven difficult," she groused. "He betrays Megatron every chance he gets and still Megatron wants him back enough to trade Jazz for him."

"Maybe they've bonded," Skyfire suggested as the only possible reason he could think of.

Ezara chuckled. "It'd make sense, the way they act..." she shook her head. "It's what I thought when I saw them interact, but Ratchet said that Starscream has no active bonds and the one he once had was long broken and healed over. There's a very unhealthy dynamic going on between them, but it's not a bond."

She abruptly paused, considering him, then shook her head.

"What is it?" Skyfire pressed.

"Would you bond before he wakes up?"

"What do you mean?" He asked her with a slight frown, not sure what she had in mind. "To try and bring him in?"

"No," Ezara shook her head quickly and emphatically. "I mean when the procedure is almost finished and we know he'll make it, but before he's conscious again. He couldn't consent, but he'd never know it broke in the first place."

"Is that even _possible_, without him wanting to do it?" Skyfire asked with a frown. "It generally takes both sides agreeing to do it. I may be able to bond with him before, but during the process..."

"You'd be surprised what's possible," she smiled knowingly up at him. "You wouldn't technically be forging a bond, but repairing a broken one. It's possible, with some assistance. It's something to consider, Skyfire. It will be some time before you'd have to make the choice."

"Understood - it'll depend on who's handling the repairs, as well. I'd trust Ratchet," he offered. "How long do you think it will be before we can try and catch him again?"

"For something like this, it'd have to be Ratchet," she said easily, then paused to think. "He'll be skittish for a while, so we can probably try again next month ... about twenty orn."

"All right," he nodded. "I want to be involved - it'll be easier to at least try and bring him in in one piece if I'm there, I think. I hope," he admitted.

Ezara shot him a look that was half startled and all warning. "You don't want to be there," she said firmly. "I won't take his wings this time, but he's never going to be talked into surrendering."

"Maybe not, but at least there's a chance of getting him somewhere safer if I'm there - we should try, at least once," Skyfire pointed out. "The bond might be broken, but there's still something there."

She looked at him hard for a long moment and stood. "I think this should go somewhere a little more private before I ask for details."

"Probably a good idea," he agreed, standing to follow her. "Are your quarters large enough?" He asked her.

"Unfortunately not," she shook her head, easily matching his longer stride as they left the common room. "It's a large room, good for even Skjöldur, but you're a whole different class of tall."

"Do they follow you everywhere?" Skyfire gave a curious glance back at Skjöldur and Whippoorwill and led the way to his quarters.

"Pretty much," Ezara rolled her eyes. "With any kind of luck they'll be shadowing Prime around soon."

"What kind of luck?" he asked with honest curiosity.

"The kind that gets at least a couple of my Guard here soon," she said. "They go back to Prime when my own can take their place."

Skyfire nodded and fell silent for the remainder of the walk to his quarters. His mind was turning over everything she'd said, and implied, and tried not to shudder when he tapped the code to open his door. To take a Seeker's wings? It was beyond cruel and torturous; a sure way to drive one mad within orn.

He'd rather tear his own spark out than live without wings.

"Did you have anything in mind for how to keep him from fighting back so hard?" Ezara asked as the door closed behind Skjöldur.

"I've got two possibilities in mind," he explained. "Both of them would involve getting me close enough to talk to him... assuming he hasn't fixed the Nullifier, at least."

"Long since fixed, and with enough knowledge, or backups, to repair it in an orn or two," she shook her head and took a seat on the berth. "It's his trademark weapon and the bane of my existence."

"Not fixed from when you fought him," he chuckled slightly. "There was one flaw in the weapon's design that kept it from being used in law enforcement. If you know what you're doing, you can create a feedback loop that basically turns it on its wielder. The people who actually know how to do it are ... well, it's basically me, Starscream, and Keynote, an old colleague of ours, I imagine. There were some people on the Council that made the choice to turn the Nullifier down who'd have read that it could happen, but Starscream didn't include the method of doing it.

"I'm assuming that he hasn't because of why he didn't accept any of the fixes he identified at first - fixing the system, at the time, reduced the effectiveness of the weapon. He might have found a way around it, I don't know."

Ezara nodded thoughtfully. "How can the Nullifier be turned on him?"

"It's not something that's easy to do on the battlefield," he told her. "I'd need to get him somewhere where we were alone - try talking to him first, I could do the rest if that wasn't working."

She regarded him evenly. "That doesn't sound less dangerous to him and definitely not for you than what I did to bring him in before."

"And how did you bring him in before?" He asked her just as evenly. "Beating him half to death and cutting his wings off, from what I've picked up? This involves me being close enough to reach him for a few moments. We might be able to end it without any violence. If we have to, then the next time he fires his Nullifier, he'll be the one disabled - safely, without damage to his systems."

"Taking his wings was a trophy, not part of the battle," she shook her head. "Jazz talked me out of killing him outright when I went hunting. Promised the intel would be worth letting him live a few more orn. For the actual battle and takedown, it was quick and painless. You've been told that I can absorb energy in just about any form? Once I make physical contact, I can put him in medical stasis from the energy drain in a matter of nanokliks. What damage he took was in getting him close enough to be grabbed."

"Yes, but you had to get that close," Skyfire pointed out. "He'll _let_ me that close, I'm sure of it."

She looked at him, her expression somewhere between reluctant hope and pity. "Ratchet'll kill me if you're damaged on my mission."

"If you're going after Starscream, I should be involved," he said firmly. "I _know_ him, even if he has changed. I know him better than anybody here, and I know how to do this the safest way possible. I'm sure Ratchet would agree that if I _can_ do what I think I can, it's best for everybody involved - isn't trying to end things without hurting anybody more than necessary the Autobot way?"

"It is," she nodded and motioned him to join her. "Tell me how you would go about capturing him?"

"The first step would be finding him - and I should try to do that alone, or at least looking like I'm alone," he said, moving to join her on the berth, albeit a little awkwardly. "What range can I be tracked over?"

"With Teletraan-1? Pretty much anywhere on the planet," Ezara said easily, relaxing back against outstretched arms. "For the four of us, a probably four hundred decarun if you're airborne. Finding him is easy, though. Just keep an eye on who's leaving Nemesis. He goes out on patrol every few days."

"Good to know," he nodded slightly. "But I should approach him _appearing_ alone. He won't attack me without a reason, I'm sure. Once I've gotten close, I can either talk him down, or send a signal once his Nullifier's been sabotaged. I'm sure he'll use it early on, against me if nobody else."

"Catching him alone will be the trick," she reminded him with a gentle smile. "He's not going to fly solo for a while now. I expect Megatron to order it if nothing else. But I've had Telentraan-1 on special watch for it since I turned him over. I'll be alerted if he's out alone. For now, willing to share a few memories of him? Show me why you're so sure he'll talk to you, even after what happened when you woke up?"

"I think so," he nodded, offering her his large hand.

* * *

Skyfire roused slowly, first aware that the lights were on above him, but he wasn't in med-bay. Memory kicked up that his last location was his quarters. The touch of the alien, his senses spiraling out of control, pleasure as intense as any he could recall.

There was a weight against his side and chest, so familiar he more than briefly wondered if the cold of the ice and the cruel Starscream was just a nightmare. Instinct reached out for the bond that had been there so much of his adult life, only to find it ended just outside his own spark.

He on-lined his optics and looked down. A Seeker? Curled against him as Starscream always did when they managed to share a berth.

~Shu, calm Skyfire,~ a femme's voice caressed his processors, soothing with assurance and strength that only barely overlaid the pleasure that came with her touch. ~It's okay.~

~Who are you?~ He asked, trying to shrink away from her, still disoriented, and more than a little disturbed by the resemblance between this new Seeker and Starscream.

~Ezara,~ she answered softly, unweaving their processors without being asked and shifting her form back to her default. ~It's okay. You're safe here.~

"How did you do that?" He asked verbally, still unsettled, though not as much as he sifted through his memories of the night before to figure out what had happened.

"My entire body is made of nanites," she smiled up at him and shifted to claim a chaste kiss. "I can't do exact people, but I can get close enough for most fantasies."

"I see," he murmured, clearly thinking it over, even as he returned the kiss on reflex more than anything else. "Last night was just a one-time thing, right?" He asked her.

"Unless you'd like it again," her smile was gentle, meant to comfort. "It wasn't my intention to seduce you, I'm just not programmed to refuse desire when it's there. You miss him so much it hurt."

"I do," he admitted, brushing her shoulder lightly. "Thank you, but I think this will be a one-time thing. It's... not something I would have normally done," he said, trying to be polite as he explained it.

She shifted forward to kiss his cheek. "I understand," her voice was soft and full of compassion in his audio receptor. "I am sorry if I shouldn't have..." her voice trailed off into a sigh as she pushed off the berth to sit upright. "I didn't mean to hurt you more."

Skyfire continued to lay there, watching her settle into a sitting position when the corner of his optic caught sight of Skjöldur, her back against the far wall. It gave her a full command of the room, including the berth.

"It's not that you did," he told her gently. "It's just... difficult right now. I've lost a massive portion of history, I'm still sorting out everything that's changed. It's... disorienting, to have things like that change."

"You're in good company here," she said gently. "The Ark crew lost four ganon, and the Guard lost nine and a half," she motioned towards Skjöldur with her chin. "It's not quite the same, but I think you'll find understanding in it."

"I hope so," he nodded as the door to his quarters opened to admit Whippoorwill and the six cubes of energon she was carrying. "Thank you for your understanding. And everybody's discretion?" He added, looking between her and the Guard.

"Always," Whippoorwill answered easily a she offered him two cubes. "We're privy to things _the Prime_ doesn't want said. It is default programming not to mention anything that is not specifically cleared."

"Don't be surprised if Jazz catches enough in my head to work it out, but I won't spread it around, and I doubt he will," Ezara promised as she accepted her breakfast.

"Thank you, both," he said, taking his own and starting to drink.


	29. The Ultimate Doom

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Jazz/Whiplash, Jazz/Ezara  
_Rating_: PG-13  
_Codes_: Het, Slash  
_Summary_: The events of The Ultimate Door, as seen from Cybertron.

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**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 29: The Ultimate Doom**

* * *

"How is progress on the moon base project going?" Ezara asked as she relaxed in Ultra Magus' briefing room with him and enjoyed the fine high-grade energon he brought out for her visit.

"Slowly but surely," Magnus explained. "We're getting things set up well enough that we'll be able to set up the power plants within several cycles. Perceptor exchanged some work with some of our researchers, and they've come up with a possible temporary improvement on the solar system you suggested," he added, taking a sip of his own energon. "Some sort of parabolic collector, to be used until we can get the full solar system established."

"How's morale doing?" she continued, asking things she could get faster and more complete answers from Whiplash from, except the SpecOp commander was putting the finishing work on setting Jazz right and she had time to kill with Magnus.

"Better than it's been in at least three ganon," he said truthfully. "We've got a _direction_ to move in, plans for what we're going to do going forward. Enough fuel to actually power operations for more than just trying to get more fuel so we can scrape by. The only way morale could be better is if we retook Iacon. And I'll admit, I'm feeling a lot better about things too, now that we know Prime is alive and that there's an endgame in sight, finally. I just hope we can make it happen the way we want it to."

"Same here," she nodded and smiled at the old officer. "It's good to hear things are improving here. It'll be a real morale boost on Earth. I'm honestly not sure who's getting more out of regular communications and visits," she chuckled. "It's going to be good to see this world lit up like it should be."

"And with his battle scars healed," Magnus almost smiled at the thought. "How are your Guard doing?" He asked, nodding to the door they were standing behind.

"They've settled in well, and the others are getting used to having them around, mostly," she suddenly snickered. "Optimus has the most trouble. He's never had anyone keep an eye on someone around him so obviously before. They're both as eager as I am to see them back to their original duties."

"I'm sure," he chuckled. "Though they do take their duties quite seriously as well. Have they had to make the choice between the two of you yet?"

"They tag team well," she gave grudging respect. "Whippoorwill stops me, and Skjöldur stops the attack. I think the entire battlefield froze for a nanoklik when she hit the ground in time to take a blast from Megatron and still had the wits to take Prime's riffle to shoot back at him. Good aim too. Ratchet is still glaring about having to rebuild her entire left side," she didn't quite keep the snicker contained.

"I was going to ask about that - Ratchet does good work, but there are subtle differences. I doubt that somebody like her would have _that_ many fewer battle scratches on the left side of her body," he chuckled. "Primarily surface damage, of course," he said, taking a sip of energon.

"It's what happens when the parts have to be made new," Ezara smiled with easy humor at the memories before it turned more serious. "I've gotten better about letting Prime fight his battles, but we both know the sound of that cannon charging to full strength. I can survive a hit, if barely. He wouldn't. We didn't know about her, but taking that blow for her charge is what she was built for, quite literally. It still vaporized everything from here out," she motioned on her own body the extent of the damage. "Wing, arm, a third of her chest. I've seen warriors fight beyond death, but it was still amazing to see what she did. It was like she hadn't been hit at all. She just grabbed his riffle, cycled it to full power with one hand as she put her good side to take the next blast and fired."

"Wait - she took a _full strength_ blast from Megatron's cannon?" Magnus asked, staring at her in disbelief. "Are you sure about that?"

"If it wasn't full strength, it was very close to it," Ezara nodded, absolutely serious. "Skjöldur's a shield, designed to absorbed damage. That's why she's big and slow. It's all hard armor and redundant core systems."

"That's still _very_ impressive... how she was able to stand and fight afterwards is astounding, from what you've said."

"It definitely was," Ezara agreed completely. "She was designed very well, for both purpose and personality. She'll serve Prime well against early rebellion."

"We'll all have to," Magnus nodded. "How long do you think you'll be staying, after that?"

"A metacycle or two, at most," she relaxed back with a sip of her energon, only to tense. "What is that?"

"I've got no idea," Magnus murmured, glancing down as his cube rattled lightly, then standing when he heard something at the door outside. "Let them in," he said, knowing from the sounds that it wasn't a fight - there'd have been blaster fire if that was the case, but it sounded like somebody wanted past the Guard.

The door slid open immediately and Elita-1 stood there, her expression somewhere between shock and horror. "Ultra Magus, Ezara, you _need_ to come to the serf ace to see this," she insisted. "They're moving Cybertron _itself_ though a space bridge!"

"They're _what_?" Magnus asked incredulously, already moving for the door. "How is that even _possible_?"

Ezara was on her feet as well, transforming to her air alt and keeping above the racing vehicles in the tunnel. ::Jazz ... the towers...::

::Complete sentences!:: Ultra Magnus snapped at her.

::I captured Starscream a decaorn ago. In the interrogation he gave up the location of Megatron's latest project, but not what it was. Jazz went to investigate, but was captured. Prime was planning a strike when we left Earth. It must be a giant space bridge.:: She explained as they broke out of the tunnels and onto the surface.

::But how can they move the _planet_ to get it through the bridges?:: He asked, knowing it was mostly a rhetorical question. ::The moons...?:: He looked up, trying to see if they were coming along as well. They were, though nothing further out was enveloped in the streaking cascade of light rushing past them.

"No clue," Ezara admitted as she transformed and landed, taking in her first space bridge travel with absent fascination that came mostly from Mitrix.

"However they did, it'd working," Elita-1 said, her optics wide as the distortion of bridge travel dissolved into the blackness of space, a bright yellow sun to one side and a blue-green planet not far away.

"Not good," Ezara murmured, her processors calculating the effects faster than she could comprehend them. "So not good."

"What?" Magnus asked, his optics focusing on her. "Are we in another world's orbital path?"

"That's Earth," Ezara said quickly, her mind starting to catch up with her processors. "And at this range, Cybertron's mass will tear it to shreds. We also have their moon to worry about, somewhere. Though it won't last long either."

"And there's a good chance it will do just as much damage to Cybertron in the process," Magnus said grimly.

"Unlikely," Ezara shook her head, relaying the statement from Mitrix. "Cybertron is made of much denser materials and is far larger than Earth or it's moon. Damage should be minor."

"Can you reach Optimus from here?" he asked, her assurances not making him feel any calmer.

Ezara still, focusing for a moment as she allied her body and power to make best use of long-distance communication.

"No, but I can reach Teletraan-1, and Blaster," she said after a moment.

"Is Optimus already working on issues on their end, or do we have time to confer on what to do before they have to roll out?" He asked her.

She paused, exchanging several transmissions with those she could reach on Earth. "The battle was well on when the bridge was activated," she relayed. "It's still going. Prowl said the best help will be to keep any Decepticons from leaving Cybertron first, and keep them from reaching Cybertron if we can. We can," she added firmly as Jazz and Whiplash reached the gathering.

"Primus," the black SpecOp whispered in shock.

"How?" was all Jazz managed to stammer.

"Space bridge," Magnus said simply. "We need to keep Megatron from organizing an invasion - Whiplash, I know our supplies aren't built up for a full-scale assault yet, but I need your intel on places to hit. We have to hit hard, fast, and everywhere we can, keep the Decepticons busy so they can't invade, or invade from, Earth. Soft nuisance locations are the first priority, high value is a side benefit. We need to do these with as little investment and planning as possible."

"Who _can't_ be assigned to missions?" he asked quickly with a light touch on Jazz's arm to begin the planning from memory.

"Light duty and injured," Magus decided immediately. "Full planetary complement otherwise."

"Ezara," Whiplash focused on her. "Take your Guard and anyone else who'll fly with you and suppress their air power, or at least keep it too bust to worry about us."

"Gotit, boss," Jazz grinned and flashed a wink at him before transforming and taking off at full speed.

"Go," Ultra Magnus nodded to Ezara, who'd given him the briefest of looks to confirm her orders.

"We're on our way," Elita-1 nodded and transformed before rolling out at speed.

"I'll be ready to brief you in five," Whiplash promised as the rest of Elita-1's team flashed by and Ultra Magnus was ordering everyone who wasn't SpecOps to get back to base.

* * *

"New guy, huh?" A grey-metalled mech asked Whiplash gruffly as they waited in the queue for their energon rations. He'd disguised himself, of course, using dirt, mud, and a trace of rusting agent to make himself unrecognizable, and the sort who would easily fit in with the enslaved miners of Kalis. "How long y'been down here? Know what's got everybody tied up skyside?"

"Yeah," he nodded slightly, using the pretense of being nervous to look around. "There's a mudball planet just outside the moons now. I'm sure it's getting closer."

"What? How hard'd they hit ya when they brought ya down here?" He laughed lowly. "There's no other planets around here."

"There _wasn't_!" Whiplash insisted emphatically. "There is _now_, and it's big and coming closer. The whole sky went crazy and now the sun is different, there's a gas giant visible and that mudball coming at us."

"The big push for tellurium," a worn, beaten up-looking miner said, overhearing the conversation. "The only uses for it are teleportation grids and space bridges."

"How'd you know that?" The first miner demanded.

"I helped invent them," the second chuckled bitterly. "Before Altihex became a Decepticon playground."

"Keep movin'!" One of the guards said sharply, snapping an energy whip. "Get yer ration and get back t'work!"

"If there is another planet nearby, Tyrest is going to be pushing its energy rations," the former scientist said quietly as they kept walking. "Once the magnetic dampeners start to fail, Cybertron will have its first storms since the Golden Age - and they'll start near here," he said, sounding worried.

"So? They'll be on the surface," the first one shrugged.

"But if we've got storms brewing," Whiplash piped up, taking advantage of the spreading concern, "then what happens if the energon stores get hit?"

"It'll be one huge boom," someone else said with grim finality, his optics locked on Whiplash for a moment before moving on. "It'll be the end of _our_ troubles at least."

A quick search of his memory banks told him that it was a civilian, not a particularly important one either - probably just trying to take his measure, maybe recognized him from somewhere, but the same way Whiplash recognized him.

"Yeah, but how much more damage will it do?" He pressed quietly. "Even if the blast doesn't do it, losing all the energon? Can we really just keep working while something like that happens?"

A murmur began to spread through the crowd, and he knew he'd planted the seed. A bit more work in the mines and he could do some real damage. By the time he had his meager energon ration, most of the miners were already spreading their own version of events, things starting to spiral out to the point where planetary destruction was a very real possibility. No matter how discouraged they were for themselves, the prospect of losing any loved ones who were still free was something none of them relished.

He drank his energon as greedily as any of the others, then turned to return to the mines. Part way down, as he turned to head off into a side corridor, a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

He dropped his shoulder and spun around to face the civilian who'd spoken earlier.

"Something you want?" Whiplash asked guardedly.

"I want you to get Keynote out of here," he said with a serious tone. "The scientist who spoke earlier. He's got enough in his memory banks to pay for it."

"What makes you think I ca..."

"I know what you are," the miner interrupted him sharply. "I was there, when you and two femmes escaped the Polyhex comm towers just before it went up."

Whiplash considered him, pulled up ancient files that confirmed the match. "I'll see what I can do," was all he promised.

"Thanks you," the miner nodded and moved off, going back to the work that would kill him.

With a shake of his head Whiplash turned his attention back to a little discreet sabotage and spreading word through the cells for unruly miners

* * *

"Remember - place as many charges as you can, but don't risk getting caught to put one in," Elita-1 reminded her troops, with an extra pointed look at Moonracer, as they approached the Polyhex communications grid. "We're trying to cause confusion more than do damage."

"Understood," the youngest member nodded, all too aware that she was on probation again after being captured.

"Good," Elita-1 nodded. "Firestar, Moonracer, you're together. Chromia, with me."

"Already gone, mistress," Silver Shadow winked playfully at her before going invisible with Starjumper.

"Let's get moving," Elita-1 said, as Firestar and Moonracer took off in the opposite direction. "I want to take down satellite control while we're here - blinding Shockwave will make our life much easier."

Chromia grinned as they worked in closer, taking detours or freezing as sensor nets swept by them. Every so often they got close enough to one to set the charge and dart away before it looked their way again. Before long, they were at the control station, two guards by the door oblivious to their presence.

::You get the one on the left, I've got the right,:: Elita told Chromia, converting her blaster for a precision shot as she took aim carefully.

With the efficiency of a lifetime of war together, Chromia fired her bow first, then Elita-1 fired, taking the pair out in the same spark-beat before either realized anything was happening.

They were moving nanoklik later, heading for the door. A brief moment to check it, and Chromia disabled the lock, the two moving in and looking around. Elita-1 moved to one of the control consoles, checking to see what was available.

"Techs won't be back to check on things for a cycle," she murmured, starting to type in commands. "I'm setting the satellites out of their normal orbits - place the rest of our charges, I want to leave a crater for them to fix things from."

Chromia nodded and went to work at what she did best. "There won't be anything left of this place when it goes off."

"And we have one blind Cyclopsian mech," Elita-1 grinned with unusual pleasure as she turned to see Chromia setting the last of the charges in the room. "Let's move it."

The two of them hurried out, stopping for a moment to haul the two disabled guards away so they wouldn't be completely vaporized in the blast before they made their way towards the rendezvous point.

::Moonracer, Firestar - status?:: Elita-1 radioed out, ignoring Chromia's grumbling about saving the guards they'd already half-killed from a quick death.

::Clear,:: Firestar replied on the encrypted band.

::Shadowstar, Starjumper?::

::Little busy,:: Shadowstar replied briefly, cutting the transmission before it could be traced.

Near the center of the complex, the two spies had dropped their invisibility, and were in the middle of a firefight. One of the guards had a sonar rig, and had identified them before they could take him out. Now, half the guards were headed their way, right outside the armory.

"One more klik," Starjumper responded to the unasked, but heavily thought about question on her bonded's mind.

Shadowstar nodded, though she knew the acknowledgement was only received through their bond and kept the guards pinned outside the main armory by sniping at anything that opened the door.

That klik lasted forever to one, and was over before the other knew it had even happened.

"All charges set," Shadowstar said quickly as she grabbed half a dozen plasma and concussion grenades, primed them and tossed them outside into the hallway.

When the rumble and vibration passed, she looked at Shadowstar. "Ready to go?"

"Primus I hope the disruption field is down," she shivered before wrapping her arms around Starjumper's neck and kissing her heatedly as she was embraced as well.

"We'll be fine," Starjumper murmured and focused inward. Sensation, audio, video ... everything, even the femme in her arms, fell from awareness until only her spark's beat was there.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

A sharp cry of pain and terror assaulted her audio receptors. Without thinking, Starjumper locked a hand over the sound of the noise. ~Shu. We're safe.~ she pushed through the emotional turmoil on the other side of the bond until Shadowstar stopped struggling and synched with the physical world again.

::Clear:: Shadowstar transmitted, even though she still wasn't all that sure where she was.

"What in Primus' name happened?" Elita-1 demanded as she and Chromia reached the rendezvous point moments later to find Shadowstar still curled tightly in Starjumper's comforting embrace. She knew from experience her rattled warrior could and would act if needed, but very much did not want to do more than tremble still.

"We were spotted by a sonar rig one of the guards had," Starjumper explained evenly, still soothing the quivering femme in her embrace. "Just outside the armory. We got there and set the charges, but the only way out was a jump."

"How long until you'll be ready to move?" Elita-1 asked with a mixture of sympathy and commander. She looked the way Moonracer and Firestar had gone, wondering how much longer they'd be.

"As soon as I need to," Shadowstar answered, her voice more steady than her frame as she tried to pull away, only to find her bonded unwilling to allow her to. "The disorientation is over."

"Then let's get moving - they're about to be _very_ unhappy with us," Moonracer grinned as she and Firestar reached the rendezvous. "How long until the first charges go off?" She asked, just before the first explosions in the distance.

"That answer your question?" Chromia chuckled. "Didn't want to give them a chance to fix Elita's handiwork."

"I just hope they try sending Astrotrain up - it'll be fun to watch him playing dodge the satellite," she chuckled grimly, enticing laughs from her team. "Transform and roll out!"

* * *

::Ezara!:: Ultra Magnus' voice boomed over her most secure channel with unusual urgency. ::Who's still space-worthy to Earth in a breem or less?::

::Myself, Whippoorwill, Dogfight, Groundshaker, Skyfire, Brainstorm, :: she replied smartly as she whipped around a red and gold Seeker to shoot out his engines. ::A third of those in the air, but most of the _good_ fighters. Why?::

::Look up,:: he instructed instead of answering. ::And _stop_ it.::

::Eno'kyatie,:: she whispered in shock over the channel before it closed. ::Breaker trine, with me!:: she barked the sharper than usual order over the general use frequencies and pulled up hard. She didn't need her sensors to be sure Dogfight and Groundshaker were pushing their engines to catch up with her as she hit the upper atmosphere of Cybertron. Whippoorwill was right on her wing, and Skjöldur was being left behind rapidly.

The dark shape of the Nemesis II was impossible to miss, even as far away as it was. It was approaching Cybertron - Megatron coming back, triumphant, from the planet he'd killed by bringing Cybertron to it.

Ezara dodged the satellites as she left the atmosphere, their erratic orbits more difficult to predict as she sped out of Cybertron's gravity well, and towards the vessel. Did she even have the firepower to take it down?

Probably not, not even with the three of them. It was too large. It was suicide to take it in strait battle.

::Dogfight, Groundshaker. Distract it. I'm going inside.:: she transmitted on a secure band.

Beyond the space cruiser a fighter her size struggled to escape the last of Earth's gravity. Twelve more of a different make were half way through the atmosphere. With that group was a larger ship, a shuttle.

What did the humans think they were doing?

Probably the same thing she was doing, when she thought about it. She recognized the lead fighter as the Shockwave as she got closer, and then her sensors picked up a smaller object flying towards the Nemesis, firing on its engines. She realized then that it was Optimus - somehow, he was airborne, trying to disable the Nemesis before it could get away from Earth.

The cruiser fired back, knocking him out of the air. A moment later her sensors detected the first flash of heat from the engines that shouldn't happen.

::Breakers, humans _break off_!:: she ordered over an open frequency as she turned tail and darted for the moon's far side. ::It's going to blow!::

::What happened to the target they shot at?:: Groundshaker asked, not able to make out the subject as he moved for cover along with her.

::Fell back towards Earth,:: she answered, reflexively calculating the odds of survival for everyone in range of the explosion. The humans didn't do well, but everyone else was likely to survive as long as they got medical attention.

::The humans are turning back,:: Whippoorwill transmitted as Skjöldur moved into position to take any blast that might still hit Ezara. ::They might make it out safely.::

Any replies that might be made were swallowed by the several-stage explosion between the two worlds. One far, far larger than anyone in space had calculated.

Ezara was only aware of the impact of Skjöldur against her, then of the moon's surface stopping both their forward momentum. She was aware, in retrospect, that she'd cushioned the Guard's impact in the process of not allowing herself to be flattened by it.

::Report!:: she called out on an open frequency.

::Nemesis II has detonated; no idea what caused the explosion,:: Whippoorwill said, her voice sounding pained. ::Cybertron is leaving Earth orbit for outer solar system.::

::Alive and headed back,:: Dogfight responded, not sounding much better. ::Goina take a while.::

::Primus that was big,:: Groundshaker added. ::Engines out. Still spinning.::

::I see you,:: Dogfight said. ::I've got enough to bring you home.::

::Good,:: Ezara and Groundshaker said together.

::I have had better orn,:: Skjöldur said, more for the benefit of the others than the charge she rolled off of. ::You?::

::Fine,:: Ezara promised before focusing the extra power it took to reach Teletraan-1 and snagging an update on Earth. ::Earth's okay. No dead,:: she passed the information on and focused on the retreating planet. ::Ultra Magnus?::

::Cybertron is fine,:: he replied after some time to correlate a response and deal with more critical messages. ::We're taking in prisoners from Hydrax and Kalis. Can you contact Prime?::

::Not directly, but Teletraan-1 indicates all on Earth are alive and the battle is over. My group is alive, but will be a time reaching either world. Orders?::

::Head for Earth, for now - let Cybertron's orbit stabilize before you return. We can't tell how hard it will be to reach it from here.::

::Understood. We'll report to Prime when we get there,:: she said. ::Jazz?::

::Mission complete. He's fine,:: Ultra Magnus assured her before closing the connection.

Ezara felt herself relax slightly and focused on Skjöldur, standing next to her. The large flier offered her a hand up. ::Can you make it to Earth on your own power?::

::Yes,:: she nodded. ::Whippoorwill as well,:: she pointed to the shaky little jet making it's way towards them.

::Dogfight.::

::I've got'm.::

::Good. Head for Earth, the Ark. ETA?::

::Urgg, solid half-orn,:: he responded.

::Head for it. We'll meet up with you on the way.:: Ezara instructed.

::Will do,:: Dogfight agreed and dropped the line.

::You look _terrible_,:: she focused on Whippoorwill as she landed.

::I look great, given what hit me,:: she responded cheekily.

::Still,:: Ezara's form flowed into that of a large shuttle. ::Get on board. We need to pick up the others and head to Earth.::


	30. To Catch a Falling Star

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_:  
_Rating_:  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary:_

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 30: To Catch a Falling Star**

* * *

Skyfire did his best to avoid paying any attention to his shadows, a long way off and keeping track of him as he explored Starscream's patrol region. He was sure it wouldn't take long for them to come for him - the Autobot insignia now on his wing made that fairly easy to guess. The question was, would he be able to talk before they started shooting.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" a darkly malevolent voice came from above him.

"I'm looking for Starscream," Skyfire responded, directing his sensors to see if he could find the others and picked them out well above. "Open fire, and he'll find out _your_ role in his plans going wrong before you get anywhere. Out here, Megatron would never find out who took you down."

"No need to threaten," the dark blue jet said stiffly before a pause. Then he lifted his nose and rose to join Skywarp while Starscream descended.

"It's not safe out here for a lone Autobot," his tone was pure acid and threat. From the knowledge of so long together, Skyfire could hear what he doubted most would. The pain and longing behind the snapping anger that kept most at bay.

"I wanted to find you - talk to you," Skyfire explained. "Can we touch down somewhere, talk just between the two of us?"

"What is there to talk about?" Starscream nearly snarled. "I offered you the universe, and you chose _them_!"

"You offered me the universe for _destroying a planet_!" Skyfire countered. "Star, this isn't _you_."

"You don't know me," he snapped back. "You never did. You're a weakling, just like them."

"Come down and _talk_ to me," Skyfire told him, running a scan of his nullifier to see if it had been changed since he'd last worked on it - it didn't seem so. He just had to get close enough now. "Whatever happened to wanting to save Cybertron? Do you really think Megatron is going to listen to you any more than the old nobles did? Does he now? If you're not going to pick a place, I will - my scanners tell me there's an uninhabited island down there, perfectly safe," he said, starting down towards the speck of land.

For a lingering moment he watched on his sensors as Starscream held their previous course, his two trine-mates above him. It wasn't until Skyfire had all but landed that the sleek fighter jet descended to land in a flashy transformation decent sequence that had been his long before his wings had been marked.

"All right. Talk," Starscream demanded, his trine-mates circling above them.

"What's happened to you, Star?" Skyfire asked, stepping closer to him. "You wanted to _help_ Cybertron before, wanted to convince people about the energy shortages. You were trying to find ways to fix it all. Now... what? You want to conquer the universe?"

"The only way to _fix_ anything is to be the one in power," he responded without quite the venom as before. "You were there, you know how useless it was to talk to them. They would never listen."

"They hadn't gone through four ganon of near-shutdown," Skyfire pointed out. "They're willing to listen now. But do you think Megatron is going to listen to you? Has he so far?" He put a hand on Starscream's arm lightly. "We can fix what's wrong with Cybertron now, but we need somebody in charge who wants to, instead of somebody who's willing to destroy it for his own sense of destiny. You know as well as I do - bringing Cybertron through the space bridge the way he did could have destroyed it. How many ships do you lose?"

Starscream never was one for hiding what he thought or felt, and right now Skyfire was never more grateful for that troublesome trait. He saw it all. The frustration, anger, resentment, betrayal, loss ... so much loss ... very little of it directed at the shuttle.

"Why do you think I keep challenging him?" Starscream's voice had been bled of most of its venom towards his old partner. "It's too late for science. The war has to be won before anything else will matter."

"I know, Star," Skyfire said softly, his own pain at that fact just as clear. "One way or the other. But the next question has to be what happens after the war is won. Will Megatron stop to repair Cybertron? Or will he build a statue to himself and move on to the next planet? The old nobles are gone now, all but a handful of them, and _they've_ lived through ganon of famine. Cybertron's leadership needs to be somebody who wants Cybertron to _live_, not somebody who wants it as a jewel in his crown. It needs to be somebody who cares about _Cybertron_ and its people. You used to be somebody like that," he said sincerely. "_I_ think you still are, deep down. Under what the war's done to you."

~Under what happened between us,~ he added privately though the touch. ~Primus, I wish I'd been able to be there for you.~

~I know,~ Starscream's thought came back before it could be quashed.

::I don't like this,:: Skywarp beamed to Thundercracker. ::It doesn't feel right.::

::Do _you_ want to go down there?:: Thundercracker's voice was haughty, but it still held a reminder of what their leader could do to them when angered enough.

"I still am," Starscream glared up and pulled away. "I _will_ win the war. There's still a place for you on the winning side, without that," he all but hit the Autobot emblem on Skyfire's chest.

"Star, listen to me. Megatron will kill you before he lets you take control," Skyfire said, stepping close again, putting his hand on Starscream's Nullifier as he contacted him privately again. ~He can't win. The _Decepticons_ can't win. There's an army on the way larger than all of Cybertron's armies through _history_ put together. And they're on the Autobot side. Please, come back with me - we can fix this, we can do what you've been trying to do for ganon! With your help, we can beat Megatron, save Cybertron, and then you'll be one of the most respected minds on the world- by everybody, from the Prime on down!~

As he prayed that Starscream would listen to him, he still curled his fingers slightly. If he didn't listen, he'd pull away again... and if he was right it would cause exactly the right type of damage. He'd prefer a laser welder to induce the feedback loop, but he didn't have that option like this.

Starscream looked up at him, a mixture of regret, sadness and pity there before he pulled back again. "You can't promise that," his voice was lower than usual but far more angry. "_Everyone_ knows who I am, who Starscream is. Ask your new friends what'll happen to me. Prowl won't lie to you. There's no path for me except the Decepticon way, right through Megatron. If this army is coming, so be it."

"We _can_ fix this, Star," Skyfire begged him. "Prime's already agreed, given me his word - you know what that means better than I do! If you'll come back with me, we can fix this!"

At the same time, he broadcast the signal - either way, he'd need backup shortly. Either Starscream would turn on him, and he'd need the help, or he'd need the help to get Starscream out of here in once piece after his trine turned on them both.

"Prime doesn't know what he's talking about," Starscream snarled and raised his arm as he took two more steps back. "For what we _were_, I'll let you fly. This time."

Skyfire didn't even have time to react before it was over. An explosion went off overhead and Thundercracker spiraled out of control. Skywarp dove down and transformed to teleport him to the island before taking a hit to the chest from Whippoorwill.

All that were periphery though. The shuttle's optics were locked on Starscream, the Nullifier, and the shimmer beyond him from the split fraction of a nanoklik it took Ezara to tackle Starscream in her beast form.

Just as she'd said, he was out before he hit the dirt.

"I'll give you this much, you came close to talking him in," she looked up at him as she transformed, honest respect on her features.

"I wish I'd come closer," he said honestly, dismounting Starscream's Nullifier and looking it over. "I don't know if my plan would have worked or not - I'll have to look it over in the lab, before we get to work. I ought to fix it before he gets it back, after all. Thank you for taking him down as quickly as you did."

"The less Ratchet has to fix, the better off we all are," she still smiled an acknowledgement of his thanks.

"They'll be fine, eventually," Whippoorwill said as she flew to them but remained in the air with Skjöldur.

"Transform and let's get him to the Ark," Ezara nodded to Skyfire.

He did as she ordered, transforming and opening his bay for Starscream to be loaded onboard for transport.

"Let's move before the rest of the 'cons come back for him," he agreed as he took off.

::He is _fine_,:: Whippoorwill said firmly as Ezara transformed and circled the island to check on Skywarp.

::Maybe...::

::Ratchet will kill us,:: Whippoorwill said as Ezara slipped into position above and behind Skyfire's right wing. ::We still have nine from Cybertron, and a dozen there. We'll do fine. Might even come on his own soon.::

::Who are you talking about?:: Skyfire asked them, not sure what the conversation was all about.

::Suggesting we grab Sky and Thunder while they're down,:: Whippoorwill explained. ::We have too many in storage as is.::

::I don't think I could carry them with me, either,:: Skyfire confirmed. ::Not as deadweight, at least.::

::I can,:: Ezara muttered, though she wasn't exactly arguing anymore. ::I just want him out of the line of fire.::

::We know,:: Whippoorwill said gently as she slid forward and caressed Ezara's wing with her own. ::Soon. We can't take too many at once.::

::I know,:: she grumbled as they crossed over land. A low mountain range was below them almost instantly, then a wide, green river valley and the Rockies proper before the high desert claimed the terrain. All in a scant hundred and fifty miles between open ocean and the Ark.

As expected, Ratchet and Wheeljack were waiting for them near the entrance.

"Caught him quicker this time," the medic huffed with one look at the drained Seeker in Skyfire's arms. "Well come on. I don't have all day to waste on your rewiring project," he continued to grumble as they walked through the halls to med-bay. "He frozen or drained?"

"Drained," Ezara answered calmly. "Never saw me coming."

"_I_ didn't see you coming and I was _facing_ you," Skyfire pointed out.

"It's what I do best," she grinned up at him.

"Third best," Ratchet corrected without looking at her as he pointed to a berth. Skyfire complied and laid Starscream's limp body on it. "Getting fragged and pulling a 'Jack are what you do _best_," he continued as he began examining the Seeker. "You don't leave much, do you?"

"Of course not," Ezara rolled her optics. "Low energy stasis lock is the best way to knock somebody down and keep them there without damage."

Ratchet grunted. "He's as fine as he can be a 'Con. Let's get him to the lab and get to work."


	31. There are Orn

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_:  
_Rating_:  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary:_

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 31: There are Orn**

* * *

On Teletraan-1, Prowl monitored Skyfire's progress out of the atmosphere with his precious cargo of ten Autobot shells to be granted life by Vector Sigma with the sparks of long-dead Autobots. As simple as the liftoff was, it was being watched by every Autobot on Earth. Even Prowl felt a swell of hope at events of the past two decacycles.

Cybertron's orbit had stabilized between Mars and Jupiter, on the far side of the asteroid belt. Their homeworld, while damaged by its travels and the explosion, was recovering quickly where the Autobots had control, and Shockwave's grasp was slipping rapidly outside the hard-core Decepticon cities according to Whiplash. Not that the Decepticons would surrender it without many more hard battles, but there was real, honest _hope_ that it may be in Autobot hands before the Tezita army arrived.

Starscream had been captured, again, though this time Mitrix seemed sure they'd get to keep him, and he was already having some of the feedback loops removed. What would the Decepticon SIC be like without the insanity?

He hadn't really known him before the war, so he couldn't be sure. All he knew was that he'd been a developer and designer who had gotten sidelined more than once for taking chances or pushing projects that weren't politically popular before he turned explorer with Skyfire. But if he wasn't insane anymore ... wasn't a Decepticon ... it made him a civil menace at worst, not a military one, and Skyfire was sure he could keep his partner on the right track.

Civil menaces ... that was something Prowl hadn't had a chance to deal with in entirely too long. Criminals, instead of soldiers. People who stole or got in overenergized brawls. People who could be brought to trial, instead of needing a summary execution on the battlefield, sometimes without so much as a name known to record in his logs, or anyone to notify.

"Too long," he murmured, still watching through the monitor as the glow around Omega Supreme dissipated as the atmosphere of Earth grew thinner and thinner.

"For what?" Bluestreak asked from his right. "You don't usually talk to yourself, that's all. Are you okay?"

Prowl smiled privately, not allowing the expression to surface. Bluestreak really was like a young brother to him by the accounts he'd read. Easily the closest thing to a friend he had here outside of Jazz, though for entirely different reasons.

Jazz was everyone's friend, and had become Prowl's simply on the grounds of refusing to accept anything else. Bluestreak was his friend because they both shared a loss, and the youth had very few who tolerated his incessant chatter that kept the demons at bay. It was irritating at times, but it was also simple for Prowl to ignore it when it was nothing more than noise to fill the silence.

"I'm thinking about everything that's happened lately," Prowl explained. "We've come closer to winning the war in the last sixth metacycle than we did in ganon before coming to Earth."

"It's great isn't it?" Bluestreak happy grabbed onto the subject. "Do you really think it'll be over with in a metacycle when they arrive? Ezara seems to think so, or even sooner. Why would she want it to end before her people arrive? It doesn't make sense to me. They're coming such a long way to fight with us, only to have it over before they arrive?"

"If that does happen, then it's a major marker for her," Prowl pointed out. "She lost a war before she came here - if she comes here, finds a war that's almost lost, and can turn it around to victory without _her_ army, then that 'proves' that it was her army that let her down, not her lack of skill. It also shows that, even if the last loss was partially her fault, she's clearly learned better and can take care of things now. It's all politics and warrior-honor; things that mechs like Prime and Magnus are built for, not us," he said easily.

He was actually glad for a little conversation right now. Things were quiet enough and for once it didn't give him that uneasy sense that they were just waiting for the hammer to fall. Maybe it was because things had been going so well. Maybe he was just letting himself get a little lax ... but he'd already checked the Ark's security grids three times and there wasn't anything off. Not even an anomaly to suggest that Mirage was sneaking around somewhere for an extra energon ration. Not that he didn't deserve it, after blowing up the Nemesis and coming back down to Earth the hard way.

The only thing that had him mildly curious was the meeting that Prime, Jazz and Ezara were in right now with Whiplash and Ultra Magnus on teleconference. It was rare for him not to be in such a meeting. Almost unheard of. The only times he could recall it happening before, and that had been just Prime and Jazz or Prime and Whiplash, was when they were discussing something that, as Jazz put it, no one needed to know about.

Black Ops.

In the back of his processor, he knew that meant an assassination if he wasn't there. Everything else he was good with arranging. Some of them things Prime couldn't take knowing about beforehand.

Who was going to die in their recharge this time?

He shivered faintly.

"Prowl? Bluestreak's concern snapped him out of his thoughts a nanoklik before intruder alarms went off all over the Ark.

"Slag!" Prowl snarled, glancing at the alarms. No particular location was breached ... that meant Skywarp.

And that meant there was one target that had to be secured _now_.

"Get to the conference room!" He ordered sharply, jumping out of the command chair and bolting down the halls, his feet clattering against the metal floor. Bluestreak was right behind him, riffle in hand.

By the time he bypassed the security lock, half a dozen Autobots were behind him, but no one was in the room. All five of them, gone.

"Prowl!" Whiplash looked to be in as close to a panic as the Black Op commander got. "Skywarp. Hard EMP grenade. Grabbed all of them, teleported out. Two trips. Well-planned attack. Didn't say anything."

"And how was _he_ not disabled?" Prowl growled. "Perceptor! Get in here, we need to find out where Skywarp took off for. He couldn't make it back to the Nemesis in a single jump."

"Wasn't here when it went of," Whiplash explained quickly, her manner focused and calm on the exterior. "I'll be there fast as I can. You'll _need_ an Op."

"Have Skyfire bring you as soon as he arrives," Prowl said as much as ordered them both as Perceptor rushed into the room and began analyzing the residue left by the grenade and multiple teleportations."

"Red Alert," he opened a comm to the chief of security. "Any sign of Decepticon activity within five miles? They'd need Astrotrain to move that many prisoners."

"Negative," the response was as quick as expected. "Skywarp couldn't have gotten far. The power drain on his attack would nearly cripple him."

"Perceptor, keep your scans up - look for any sign of dimensional folding or whatever else Skywarp uses. The rest of you, we're going searching! Red Alert, if you pick up any traces of 'Con activity, let us know where to focus." Prowl turned to lead the crew out, snapping out orders of who should pair off with who for the search, putting together pairs and sending them out to specific sectors around the Ark.

"They're either far more desperate than I calculated or I am missing critical data," the tactician muttered to himself as he walked to the control room and Teletraan-1's main console to organize the data streaming in from search parties.

"Red Alert," he commed while speaking out loud. "Is there any possibility they are still on the Ark?"

"Only if Skywarp also managed to disable ... no. There isn't. Every sensor sweep is clear and active. Where I don't have cameras I do have sensors to pick up activity. None of them are anywhere I can detect."

"Slag it!" Prowl snarled under his breath. "Get the Aerialbots and the others in the sky, standard grid sweep. They've _got_ to be somewhere nearby..."

* * *

Jazz struggled against an unwilling processor and objecting body to drag himself online. Skywarp and a flash were the last things he'd seen. They'd be prisoners now.

He _never_ thought the Decepticons would be so bold.

It didn't smell like a brig. It smelled fresh. Fresher than the Ark.

Didn't sound like a brig either. A loud bird, not one native to Oregon, was outside the room but nearby. Traffic was audible in the opposite direction and below. Four beings were breathing restfully around him.

Definitely didn't _feel_ like a brig ... it didn't feel like anything ... no, yes he had felt this before. In Ezara's mind. Soft sheets and a soft mattress against _skin_. Warmth. The touch of skin on skin and warm bodies to each side of him.

He forced his optics open and struggled to focus for longer than it should have taken. Vision backed up tactile and auditory.

He was in a human bedroom. A nice one. In a very large bed.

A tilt of his head showed an adult male with dark hair and a powerful, tanned and scarred body to his right. To his left was a slender, well-muscled youthful female with long black hair, dark skin. Beyond her were two more; one a giant blond with white skin, the other a slender, petite creature with a light tan and dark hair that might even be a youngling.

The only way the arrangement would work is if he was human sized as well. Or human, to be specific.

A door to his left, towards the females, opened in a manner unlike any he was used to.

Footsteps; calm, relaxed, on a soft surface.

"Rest," a low, self-assured male voice spoke, causing him to turn his head slightly more towards the door. The speaker was a middle-aged man with pale skin, silver hair and rich brown eyes that set off the smile in strong features. "Your friends are still unconscious."

"Who are you?" Jazz asked, trying to keep his manners as he assimilated everything that was happening.

"Thomas Smithson," he answered easily. "This is my home. I'm afraid I don't know which Autobot you are," he sounded a little embarrassed.

"Jazz ... what happened?" He asked him, sitting up in the bed. The femme next to him stirred, reaching an arm out to his chest to pull him back down, but the sleeping lack of strength meant it slid down to his lap instead. It seemed enough, for she settled and drifted back into recharge.

"There was a battle not far from one of my properties. I didn't witness it, but when dust settled the Decepticons had been routed there wasn't much left of the Autobot forces," he tried to keep his voice even. "One of my employees was there and said that a bright light hit a group of you, changed you into humans near the end of the battle. When the Autobots didn't retrieve you, he called me."

Jazz regarded the human for a long time, assessing the story, it's implications, and most importantly of all, what didn't fit in.

"Why not contact the authorities to contact the Autobots? They must realize we're missing by now."

"Even if they do all aliens are banned from Earth," he said a touch uneasily. "They're gone. If I contact the authorizes, you'll be in a laboratory, or at least a prison, for the rest of your lives."

So very much of this didn't compute. Didn't fit with what he remembered happening. It explained what seemed to have happened since, but it did so in the clumsiest, most unlikely way possible. Some sort of Decepticon weapon? A human one? The latter was less likely than the former, but even that was ridiculous. It scored points for this being real. A lie would be _so_ much more believable.

"Was there anybody besides us? And what happened to cause the sudden shift? It's not like we're newcomers to the planet."

"You aren't exactly resident either," the human pointed out. "You've been here maybe ten years. You'd need to be here long enough for no one to remember your arrival to be part of things."

Ten years? That made eight years unaccounted for in his memories. This was not good.

If the woman next to him was Ezara, and he thought she was, it also meant something had gone wrong with the Tezita ... unless she'd remained with them?

"So what actually happened to cause ten years of cooperation and defense to turn into prison time?" Jazz asked patiently, trying to get a read of the human. He did seem familiar somehow, but he couldn't place it. That itself made him wary.

"I don't know," he admitted with a shrug. "UN order, backed up by President Bush and others," the fine, mature features formed into a truly irritated scowl. "I'm a businessman. Politicians are crazy."

"Understood," Jazz nodded slightly. "I don't suppose there are some clothes for us, when the rest of them wake up?"

"In the closet," he motioned to a set of folding doors along the wall by the door. "My secretary swears she can fit by sight, so it should be good enough to go outside in," his voice evened out, softened a bit. "Do you know who's who?" he motioned to the others in the grand bed.

"I've got an idea of it, but I want to make sure and give them a chance to pick out suitable names before I offer them," he explained. "Jazz is one thing, it's a decent nickname. Not everyone can claim that. Thank you for your help."

"After all you've done for Earth, it's the least I can do. Everyone in this house knows who and what you are," he turned and whistled quietly. A rush of wind and feathers preceded a large, brilliant red bird into the room. "You do not need to hide here."

Jazz nodded and watched the bright avian settle on the headboard near the center where it could watch them all easily.

"Fireflight, a pet," Thomas introduced the avian. "A Scarlet Macaw. Fireflight, that is Jazz."

"Jazz, hello," the avian squawked quietly, though not quietly enough.

A snarling hiss erupted next to Jazz and he barely managed to grab the slender but strong body that launched at the bird, causing it to take flight in panic.

"Shu, we're safe," he whispered desperately, taking a risk and kissing her neck. "Don't kill the pet."

Bright crystal blue eyes locked onto his as the tension began to bleed from her body.

"Long story," he warned her, aware that the commotion had roused the other two femmes.

The smallest one, on the far side nearest Thomas, slipped from the bed, completely unconcerned with her nudity or strange form.

"Were are we?" she asked him with pointed politeness as she walked up with a grace that was all Whippoorwill. "Where are our weapons?"

"You are in my home," he explained, taking a step back and raising his hands in an instinctive appeasement gesture towards the small female. "You had nothing when my men found you."

"_Where_ are we?" she repeated, though her body relaxed it's threat.

"Country," Ezara elaborated for her Guard without shifting out of Jazz's embrace.

"North of Seattle Washington in the U.S.," Thomas supplied, a frown creasing his expression as his gaze settled on the large male that hadn't woken yet. "Maybe I should call my doctor. He's very circumspect."

"Give us a few minutes first. In privacy, maybe?" Jazz suggested, not sure if Optimus really wasn't awake yet, or if he was faking it for the time being.

"Of course," Thomas nodded and stepped back before turning to leave the room, closing the door behind him.

Whippoorwill wasted no time in opening the closet and shuffling through the collection there, two or three complete sets of clothes for each of them.

"Optimus?" Jazz asked quietly, getting out of the bed, not worried about his nudity as he checked on his leader.

"I'm fine," Optimus rumbled quietly as he sat up, still rather gorgy. "Though this situation is most disturbing."

"You don't know the half of it," Ezara muttered as she caught the clothing Whippoorwill tossed to her and got out of the bed to get dressed in dark jeans and a brilliant blue dress shirt. "Whatever dimension we're in, it's a limited amount of time before this world is ripped to shreds by a very pissed off and utterly unreasonable advanced strike force. If we're in the same one, something very bad happened given my folks should have been here a metacycle ago."

"We can't be," Jazz said, shaking his head. "Not unless _none_ of us remember what happened before we were knocked out correctly. What did you all see?"

"Skywarp, a grenade, he 'ported out, then nothing," Whippoorwill recounted as she tossed clothes to Jazz and Optimus.

"Same, though Skjöldur landed on me before it went off and I caught a flash of light before my optics and most of my neural net went down," Ezara added as she worked out how to get her shoes on.

"It didn't entirely?" Jazz's head shot up to look at her, his shirt only half buttoned.

"No, but I can't tell if when came after was actually input, glitches or a combination," she shrugged and began a closer inspection of the room while she talked. "Movement, Skywarp's teleporting effect, voices ... Megatron and Soundwave, and a mech I'm not familiar with. I couldn't make out much by way of words. Ravage was there. He whined. A transport vehicle. At some point Soundwave realized I wasn't completely out and put me the rest of the way under."

"Then the story was definitely _not_ accurate, at least not to the point where we were knocked out," Jazz observed, finishing getting dressed. "Which means that either we're in another dimension or timeline, or our host isn't what he seems to be. Possibly a human, working with the 'cons in exchange for technology. Another Arkeville, albeit a more cultured one. Unfortunately, none of us were equipped to figure that out _before_ we were turned into humans. I just don't see the Decepticons going to the trouble of putting us into another dimension when they could just have dropped an energon grenade and largely been done with it."

"When was the last time brute force took Prime or myself out?" Ezara snickered a bit, then settled. "Seriously, a dimensional shunt is _much_ more effective in the short run. Personally, I'd go with this isn't real, on some level. There is something seriously not right, beyond the story. It is possible that whatever hit us wiped several years worth of memories."

"That's also entirely possible," Jazz admitted. "We just don't have any evidence to prove it, not yet. There are pieces that don't add up, that don't fit right, but I think we'd be able to figure out if we were in some sort of VR system."

"Eventually," Ezara nodded. "I think we have some scouting missions in our near future," she nearly purred and looked around. Whippoorwill was helping Skjöldur get her shoes on, and everyone looked more-or-less presentable. She shot a questioning look at Jazz.

"You're right," he blinked in surprise at himself. "We got a data download of at least some survival basics," he explained to Optimus' look. "Ezara's the only one who's ever gotten dressed before, in any context."

"Here's hoping our host has weapons in the house," Whippoorwill said once she was satisfied that they were presentable enough. "I'll feel much better with a good knife handy."

"You and me both," Ezara nodded. "Everybody ready to find out what's out there?"

"Just remember," Jazz warned them all, "you're all much, _much_ less durable now," he looked at Skjöldur in particular.

"Noted," Whippoorwill said, to which Skjöldur nodded her understanding.

"I'll be careful," Ezara rolled her eyes at him.

"Prime - I'd suggest that you might want to stay here, for now. We can explain that you're going to be fine, but are still recovering. We might want to leave Skjöldur with you, just in case," he added, looking at her, not sure if she'd accept being told to break off her primary duties by him. She wasn't easy to read, but she seemed eager for the order, though she looked to Prime to give it. "Ezara, Whippoorwill and I are all better suited to getting around without attracting _too_ much attention."

"That much is true," Whippoorwill back him up with a respectful tone. "At least let us clear the building before you wonder around it."

"I am not a politician that needs to be protected," Optimus reminded them, his voice deepening with his annoyance. "I will be careful, but I will not hide."

"Names might be an issue in the general population," Ezara brought up quietly, a touch unsure of the importance. "Skjöldur's a real name on Earth, but the rest of ours aren't."

"It's not a real name that's in common use most places though," Jazz pointed out. "I might get away with mine as a nickname that I use frequently, but that's about it. Fortunately, it seems the household knows about us - we'll need to be more careful about the rest of the world, but here we should be safe for now. We should split up - Skjöldur and Prime, Whippoorwill and Ezara, and I can go on my own, perhaps? Best division that'll keep one of the Guard with each of you. They'll be more comfortable that way, at least."

"I'm game," Ezara agreed with an eager grin. "Who's getting weapons?"

"That would be me," Jazz said firmly.

"I do not think it is wise to split up," Optimus shook his head. "Not until we know what the situation is.

Whippoorwill looked up at him. "Prime, If we're in a VR, splitting up won't matter. We need to know where and when we are. If we are in an alternate dimension, it's still imperative we get back to ours before Emirc Kikn'nah arrives."

Ezara winced. "She has a point there. Lyzen won't take my absence well at all."

"Beyond that, a group of five of us walking around, searching the house won't look at all innocent. If we're split up more, it looks much more like we're looking for a bathroom or food," Jazz offered. "We'll meet back here in about an hour?"

Optimus nodded, far too experienced to try and argue when he was up against Intel and they sounded rational. There really were times he was not in charge.

Skjöldur opened the door and looked each way down the hall. "Two doors left, far side, main areas right," she reported.

"Jazz and I'll take right, Prime left?" Ezara glanced at the two males for agreement.

They both nodded, and Optimus resigned himself to allowing Skjöldur to open the doors and step into each room first. Not that it was anything interesting. One led to a large, well-appointed and used office and the other to an elaborate and brightly lit bathroom with many divisions; one for each function. Both were empty, but were thoroughly explored before they turned to follow the path the others took into the main part of the building.

They heard Whippoorwill chattering, her voice fully animated and friendly, up ahead and hurried a bit to catch up with her. It turned out that she'd found the kitchen, and was now in a deep conversation with a middle aged human dressed in white.

"Who knew she was so ... domestic," Ezara's voice was utterly bemused when they crossed into her line of sight.

"Part of her job," Optimus pointed out, taking in Ezara's relaxed posture against the kitchen wall. "And a good place to find something for a weapon without Jazz being able to complain," he added as he noticed Skjöldur palming a good-sized knife. "Cooking area?" He asked, looking around, guessing at the function from what he knew of human culture. Jazz was much better at it, but he knew a little bit.

"Yes," Ezara nodded. "That one," she made a small motion to the white-clothed human deep in conversation with Whippoorwill. "Wants to feed us. So far I think negotiations are going well."

"Negotiating with somebody who _wants_ to do something for us?" Optimus asked, raising an eyebrow, a little startled for a moment at the more exaggerated feel of the gesture. "What for?"

"Paranoia," Skjöldur surprised them both by speaking, though she kept it to Cybertronian. "Working out what he will make for us," she corrected herself after Whippoorwill flashed her a few hand signals behind her back.

Optimus cast the giant femme a curious look, but it was Ezara who answered.

"An easy way to assassinate is poison in the food or drink," she explained. "That's her reason. The argument started because I prefer to hunt than be served, so she started talking before I upset him any more."

"What upset him?" Optimus asked.

"You're in _his_ kitchen," Thomas' chuckled as he walked up behind them. "Gregory is a fine chef."

"I'm sure," Ezara leveled her gaze on the older man her own height. "I'm not much on being served," she shrugged.

Thomas nodded acceptance of the explanation. "Have you decided on what you'll be called?"

"Just how suspicious are humans about unusual names?" Optimus asked.

"Around here, very little," he chuckled. "As long as you're comfortable with it. You might get a few questions about its origin, but that's it. There are too many nationalities in this country for folks to find an unusual name as much more than a curiosity. So ... who are you?"

"Ezara Onyan'a," she answered easily. "The feisty little one is Whippoorwill, and the big one's Skjöldur. Generally not good to get between them and me or Prime," she inclined her head towards him. "It's their purpose to protect us, and they take it a bit too seriously at times."

"Optimus Prime," he gave his full name.

"Mmm, that ... might be too well known," Thomas said thoughtfully. "But no one would expect a human to be the Autobot leader."

"I will look at choosing a different name for public use," Optimus nodded slightly. "What day and year is it, locally?" He asked politely.

"May sixteenth, nineteen ninety-five," he answered easily as Whippoorwill and the chef shook hands and the tiny female spun around with a playful grace to walk towards them.

"Everybody to the dinning room," she promptly took charge of her superiors, though her voice was sweet and her manner absolutely friendly. "Lunch will be ready shortly and I understand there are maps in the house?" she shifted her attention to Thomas.

"Yes," he nodded, an uncertain look on his face.

"State, county and city would be appreciated," she offered him a winner smile.

"Of course," he agreed, even without understanding, and showed them to the informal dinning room. "Make yourselves comfortable, the bar is fully stocked," he paused briefly at the way Ezara perked up. "I will return shortly."

"One of us should find Jazz," Optimus observed as Ezara investigated the bar, sniffing the various bottles for something she liked. "Whippoorwill? Could you look for him? Let him know that Skjöldur's with the two of us."

"Will do," she nodded and walked off, managing to make very good time without appearing to hurry despite her small size.

His attention shifted to Skjöldur, who was making a perimeter walk around the large space, her focus on the grand panorama windows that filled two of the walls.

It was the first time he'd noticed the weather. It was raining. Hard.

Beyond the gray sheets and clouds was a city, situated below them. A very large city, given they were still on the West Coast.

He took another assessment of those with him. Skjöldur had placed herself with her back against the small amount of wall between the two huge picture windows, giving herself an excellent command of both the room and the exterior around it. Ezara had picked the head of the table, which gave her an excellent view out both windows and a good view of most of the room. Her attention seemed to be on the rich brown liquid in her glass and deep in thought.

By the time Thomas returned with several folded maps, they could hear Jazz asking rapid-fire questions and a light, unfamiliar female responding not far behind him.

"Can you give us any more information about the battle you talked about?" Prime asked Thomas as they waited for Jazz, Whippoorwill and the second female to catch up. "What happened, the results, how long we've been known to the humans at all?"

"Very little more, I am afraid," the silver-haired gentleman admitted. "It is heavily classified. People are afraid to talk. What I know was passed on by my workers and a few other witnesses."

"Understood," Prime nodded, looking at the newcomer. "One of your employees?" He asked Thomas politely.

"My secretary, Melinda Bayes," he introduced the petite, professionally dressed brunette who was still largely focused on Jazz.

"And we come bearing gifts," Jazz grinned and held up a leather bag before spilling it's contents - weapon-quality daggers, knives, a 9mm pistol and multiple sheaths and holsters - on the table.

"Now those are gifts I can appreciate," Ezara grinned as she snagged two daggers that promptly disappeared into a sheath she secured to each forearm.

Whippoorwill snagged the pistol, a dagger and two knives for herself, while Skjöldur claimed her share before retreating into her corner again.

"You're fine with our being armed?" Prime asked Thomas, considering the selection even as he noted that the claimed weapons were no longer visible. The man was their host, after all, and they were his weapons - he was sure that Jazz would have checked before making this brazen a display of dividing them, but he still wanted to be polite.

"Of course," he inclined his head slightly. "I served. I know how much easier it is to relax armed," he met Optimus' gaze easily with a familiarity of common experience and shifted his grey jacket to reveal subtle trace of a holster, the weapon nestled above his hip. "I trust as Autobots you will not cause unnecessary damage."

"Of course," Prime nodded, choosing one of the knives and a matching sheath for himself. "Thank you for your understanding. When you've spent most of your life with something built in, it's odd to be unarmed."

"I can only imagine," Thomas said with more feeling than usual.

"I'll keep damage to a minimum as well," Ezara said seriously, half surprising Optimus that he didn't have to prompt her, or speak for her.

"You are not an Autobot?" Thomas focused on her.

"Not even the same species," she said as she relaxed back, clearly happy to have a couple sharp implements on her person. "Race is Tezita, faction is Vistra. I am an Autobot ally," she added almost as an afterthought.

Thomas nodded, taking Optimus' silence as enough confirmation. "A few things you should know. Concealed firearms are illegal in this state without a permit," he looked seriously at Whippoorwill. "I have one, but acquiring one for anyone with no actual history will be time-consuming. Concealed blades are illegal. Blades over three inches long, which all of those are, is a grey area at best. Having them in the open, while more legal, will draw a significant amount of attention to you that you will not want."

"Short form; don't get caught," Jazz spoke up.

"Ur, yes," Thomas cocked his head slightly at him. "What did you do?"

A low chuckle emanated from the saboteur with a grin. "Whatever needed ta be done."

"Special Ops?" he narrowed his eyes.

"Among other things," Jazz nodded, spinning a knife nearly as long as his forearm in his fingers.

Thomas nodded. "What are yours called?" he asked with mild curiosity.

"Intel," Jazz chuckled. "Nothing so colorful as human military units."

"Lunch is served," the chef's voice announced to the smells of roasted and fried meats and savory sauces.

"Sit," Ezara locked eyes with Skjöldur and pointed to a chair across from where Whippoorwill had perched herself while talking. "Eat with us."

The stoic giant hesitated, reluctant to leave her post, but complied before Ezara repeated herself.

"We're not likely to have any issues for the time being," Prime told her, starting to eat along with the others, letting the two guards do so first, knowing they'd insist on it. The flavors were something he'd have to adjust to - and the entire process of cutting and chewing food, though whatever information they'd gotten was at least telling him it was necessary, and what the flavors translated into. The time-frame he'd been given meant they couldn't be in their world. That was a good thing, in some ways, though it also meant that they had to find out what _had_ happened and how to get out of it. With that in mind, he didn't really have the spare attention to give the different types of food that were on offer.

"I will know if trouble is coming long before you can see it," Thomas assured them. He sat and ate with them, though only lightly. His attention, and curiosity, was openly focused on Ezara. "Do Tezita eat?"

She startled slightly, then chuckled. "Some of us can," she nodded and returned to eating with more relish than any of the others, with the possible exception of Jazz, who was fascinated by the new experiences as always. "It's not a first choice, but I've survived on meat before."

"She could convert just about anything into energy," Jazz explained briefly. "Very similar to human digestion, with more options. You have an excellent variety available," he observed, having tried a little bit of everything already.

"I do enjoy the finer things in life," Thomas smiled at him. "The reward for hard work and victory. Good food is one of those rewards for humans."

"Of course," Jazz nodded slightly. "Do you mind answering a few more questions about what's happened lately?"

"Not at all," Thomas relaxed in his chair. "I expect you have many. As you saw, I have instructed my staff," he inclined his head towards Melinda. "To be as helpful as they can."

"And I'm grateful for it," Jazz nodded. "Just where are we, exactly? Besides the obvious; I think we're somewhere in Washington state, but I can't pick out the exact spot with the landmarks I've seen so far."

"You are. The city you see down there is mostly Smokey Point, north of Seattle. The water is Puget Sound," he supplied easily. "If you have good eyes, you can seen Camano Island when the weather is clear."

"Thank you," Jazz nodded slightly. "Is Cybertron still in the solar system, as far as you know? I imagine _that_ would have been very difficult to keep covered up."

Thomas laughed deeply. "That's one way to put it. It was brought, yes, and a year ago it was sent away. At least officially. If it's still here, somebody's doing a very good job of hiding it. A planet that size can be seen with a simple telescope."

"Do you know how it was sent away?" Prime asked, taking a sip of his drink. Something non-alcoholic. "Human project, or Cybertronian?"

"I'm afraid not," he shook his head. "Its arrival was what turned much of the world against you. It did come very close to destroying Earth, and even nine years later there are entire countries still in ruins. Millions died by the time the natural disasters settled down."

"Which we worked to offset as much as we could, but understandable," Jazz nodded slightly. "How long do we have to figure out cover stories, backgrounds, and some way to earn a living?"

Thomas leaned back, swirling the contents of his glass lightly. "What you need," he finally said, his gaze somewhere else. "Just how much of your tech-savvy is linked to the ability to plug into it?"

"It varies," Jazz answered, his tone easy despite the caution he was using. "Ah probably know the most and learn the fastest."

"Haven't seen your tech yet, but we'll find out," Whippoorwill grinned eagerly.

"Are you _sure_ Whiplash dinna train ya?" Jazz laughed deeply and reached over to slap her shoulder.

"Don't insult me," the little femme huffed, faking indignation flawlessly except for the grin in her eyes. "He wasn't even a schematic scribble when I was Intel's Guard liaison."

"As if," he shot back with a wicked grin. "You two are mirrors of the same spark."

"Flatterer," she purred, leaning forward with her large eyes half lidded in a too-blatant seductive move. "Like that's going to work on _me_."

"Are they usually like that?" Thomas leaned over to Optimus and whispered.

"Ezara more often, but it's normal enough," he chuckled to himself as he watched the pair make painfully obvious verbal passes at each other while Ezara tried to keep herself from loosing her composure to mirth.

"Then you ... romantic ... how?" Thomas tried very hard to form a coherent sentence.

"Ah believe the phrase is cyber sex," Jazz piped up, causing Whippoorwill and Ezara to lose it laughing and Skjöldur gave a mild snort. "Physical's good, but it's rare ta get off from it. Takes ah _lot_ o' skill."

"Well, physical will be more the norm for you now, I'm sure," Melinda told them. "Rather different mechanically as well. You'll just want to take some care figuring it all out."

Jazz gave her a quizzical look, then smiled at her in a less humored, more interested way. "Why be unusually careful?"

"Well, I imagine you're not used to the biological conditions that can be associated with it," she said easily. "That, and I imagine that you've got far blurrier lines related to gender and proper relationships than most humans do."

"I think the correct assessment would be no lines," Ezara acknowledged, her curiosity peaked. "Short of personal preferences at least."

"True," Jazz nodded. "What are the things to watch out for?" he prompted, his attention on Melinda fully now.

"You can generally assume that most people, at least in the US, will be interested in the opposite gender only, and will take offense if you make a pass at them that isn't welcome," she explained. "Many of the people who _are_ interested in the same gender will be very unwilling to admit it publicly. There are more people who are out about it now than there were a decade ago, but they're still largely looked down on."

Jazz nodded, and those who knew him could see the self-commentary as he worked that fact into his behavior profile. "All right. Femmes only. Any other helpful hints for the new guy?"

"Monogamy is also very much the norm ... or at least serial monogamy. Though that's more flexible, especially since the 70's. You'll also want to look into the assorted STD's that are out there - especially if you keep going on with partners of the same gender, there are some nasty ones out there."

"Monogamy?" Ezara asked, simple curiosity in her voice at the unknown word.

"Only sleeping with one person," Melinda told her, and paused at the stunned expression that met the statement. "At least for the duration of the relationship."

Ezara's mouth remained slightly open, her expression one of disbelief founded in a complete lack of comprehension of how it was _possible_.

"Most folks aren't as high-maintenance as you are," Jazz teased gently. It still earned him a dubious look. "All right, most folks who _aren't_ from Lydrom."

"Sleeping around won't be _that_ unusual, especially if you're not married, but you'll probably get a few dirty looks, unwelcome advances, and probably end up getting a reputation for being 'easy.'"

Jazz politely busied himself with a drink, to keep from making any of the comments that were on the tip of his tongue. It wouldn't do to rile Ezara, or insult their hosts. She was going to have a difficult enough time adapting as it was, and he was sure he'd be taking the brunt of it.

"All right," Ezara accepted the statement with very little comprehension of it. "You brought a state and local map?" she changed the subject abruptly and took the two folded pieces of heavy paper that were offered.

"Looking for anything in particular?" Jazz shifted his plate over as she unfolded them.

"Calculating more than looking," she answered, her mind already largely elsewhere and a mild scowl on her features as she played her fingers across the state map, then the local one. "How we approach the next few years will depend on what's coming and what's here. Alternate reality or not, it has enough in common with our own to be worth checking on Lyzen's network status."

"I thought you didn't know about the network, or the contacts?" Jazz said, moving to review the map along with her.

"I don't know specifics, not enough to find anyone or tell you who they might be," she corrected him absently, her eyes locked on the map and slightly glazed over. "I do know enough to find some of the first level of emergency stashes that would be set in place before active infiltration began. There are standards, so any agent that finds themselves in a hostile location can grab what they need to survive."

"Why didn't you mention them before?" Optimus regarded her.

"Didn't need the supplies when I was coherent enough to think about it," she shrugged. "There should be a box here," she pointed to a location inland from them a few miles.

"What type of supplies are we dealing with?" Jazz asked, considering the options. Most of the supplies that would be needed by a mechanical being wouldn't help them much now.

"A primary like this one will have light weapons, medical ingots, a small energy converter and local info," she said. "You take what you need and leave the rest. The more important thing is that it will signal that it's been accessed. If they're here, they're who we want to be with."

"And they'll accept that we're mechanical beings, the ones they're looking for, who have been turned into humans through a process we can't explain, and not just people who tripped over an intel supply cache and opened it up?" Prime asked, bringing up the obvious issue.

"They won't care who or what you four are, were or want to be," she told him bluntly but evenly. "I can tell them enough to get the investigation kicked up to Lyzen. From there, depending on the state of projects I've never bothered to care much about, we'll either be sent home or appropriate bodies constructed for us."

"Whoa," Jazz blinked. "You're telling me that you can transfer a mind from one body to another, when it's _not_ Tezita?"

"Pretty much," she nodded after a brief thought. "I know it works for the kind of body I had. We can make something work for you."

"We'll figure something out," he nodded slightly. "What if it's not there? Any other way to contact them, some way to prove who you are and that you need help? That's what they're here for, after all."

"I can prove who I am easily enough," Ezara said with a relaxed calmness. "Getting their attention in this state will be a matter of putting the information out in a way that one of them is likely to come across but any humans who do see would not recognize the importance. Finding a stash is the simplest of them. Next would be getting my name or a few bits of the Si'Mir's dialect in the media where one of them will notice it."

"A personals ad would probably be the easiest way," Jazz mused.

"How's the job market around here, in the meantime?" Optimus asked, looking up at Thomas and Melinda.

"Quite good, for most," Thomas answered.

"What are your specialties, any skills that might be useful in civilian employment?" Melinda asked with a professional smile.

"Anything that involves fighting or killing," Ezara offered.

Thomas and Melinda exchanged a glance.

"The first exists, to a degree, and the second is not legal," Melinda said.

"Skills outside of the areas that would need a security clearance?" Jazz chuckled slightly. "We'd need to sort out some of that. There are some things we _might_ be able to offer, but we'd need to sort it out on our own."

"Then for now, why don't I borrow Melinda to drive and see if that stash exists, and Jazz can see how well modern tech gets along with us?" Ezara suggested.

"That sounds reasonable to me," Thomas nodded easily.

Ezara and Whippoorwill stood, earning a glance from Melinda.

"I'm a Guard," she explained with a winning smile. "I go where she does."

Melinda nodded her acceptance and showed them out.

"Now, just how interconnected is technology these days?" Jazz gave a grin of his own to Thomas.


	32. Stress Management

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_:  
_Rating_:  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary_: Prowl sends Mirage and Bumblebee to the Nemesis.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 32: Stress Management**

* * *

Prowl was in his office, deep in thought and running the tactical computations he was weakest at; special operations. It was really Jazz's field. Jazz wasn't here though, so like command of the Ark and the battlefield, it fell to him. At least until Whiplash arrived and took charge of the specialized field.

All right, that wasn't entirely true. Command of Intel fell to Mirage when Jazz was away, but this was well beyond the noble's experience. He was a fine manager and mission planner, but he hadn't worked on a strategic scale much. Never anything with such stakes.

A beep drew his attention away from his calculations and concerns.

"Enter," he called out and signaled the door to unlock and open. "Good," he didn't let his relief show at the two mechs on the other side. "I have a mission for you."

"You've found Prime?" Bumblebee asked hopefully as the door slid shut and locked behind him.

"That is what I want you to find," Prowl locked optics with each in turn, lingering on Mirage as the senior officer. "I have it on good authority..."

"Whiplash?" Mirage asked.

"Yes," he nodded slightly. "That they are not on Cybertron. At least not at this time. I want you to get on board the Nemesis. If they are there and you can rescue them, do so. Otherwise bring back intel on their location."

"When will Whiplash arrive?" Mirage asked calmly.

"In ten joor," Prowl answered. "At which point he will take command of your unit. Try to have some good news for him when he gets here."

"Yes sir," Mirage nodded acceptance.

"Mirage, Bumblebee," he made them both stop before turning around. "I am trusting your judgment on when to pursue intel and when to call it in."

"Yes sir," Mirage smiled slightly in acknowledgement of the free reign they'd been given to act. It wasn't often anyone but Jazz trusted him that way.

* * *

Megatron stepped into Soundwave's interrogation room at one of their outer bases, giving only a passing glance at the four Autobots in a form of stasis on the berths. His gaze lingered a little longer on the twitching pool of nanites locked in a stasis chamber before locking onto the master of the room.

"How goes your experiment?"

"Observation: Not as anticipated," Soundwave explained. "They suspect the nature of their imprisonment. They have not yet begun to attempt to break through."

Megatron nodded. "How long do they believe they have been human?"

"Thirty-six Terran solar cycles," he answered. "Prime watches, listens, yet has asked few questions of those I have given them to interact with. Jazz is well on his way to infiltrating a major intelligence agency. While his goal is to gather intel, it is an exercise to him, not a mission. Ezara is becoming restless and more difficult to control. Her inherent lack of modern social programming is becoming apparent now that the others are not interfering with her CPU processing. She is not merely savage, My Lord. She is feral."

"Have you had any success at being able to contact the others?" Megatron asked him. "Separately, as individuals?"

"Negative," he responded. "The process of keeping them from contacting her has put them in full stasis lock."

"Slag it," Megatron grumbled. "As for her having become feral, how wild is she at this point?"

"Limited. Physical twitching is apparent to those in the sim. Jazz has controlled her to a great extent. Most prominent behaviors: strong preference for raw red meat and a reflex to attack anything small that comes within range. She has eaten several small birds and mammals when he is not nearby."

"Interesting," Megatron murmured. "Estimates for recovery?"

"With the others, a few joor. If she is alone in the body, she will not recover. It will require training her to behave as she should. We should also be prepared for a rescue attempt, Lord Megatron," Soundwave's visor flashed briefly. "There has been outside interference in the sim that I can not trace."

"Impact and nature of the interference?" Megatron asked, his optics glinting at the suggestion that somebody was in their computers.

"Impact: minimal. Nature: altering minor details to better suit Ezara and Jazz. Expected reason: to keep her calm."

"Do you think _she_ might be the source, on some level? Or the rest of them?" Megatron asked, considering the options. Anybody who could change the sim would likely have let her out, if they could...

"Probability: less than point zero zero one," Soundwave's monotone conveyed his certainty. "I have traced the signal to outside this room. I have not successfully traced its origin yet. Skywarp is not capable of such a feat," he answered Megatron's next thought.

"I doubted he would be," Megatron admitted. "Linejack, perhaps, but how he'd know where to find her I don't know. Find the source - I want to know who's capable of this."

"Yes, My Lord," Soundwave answered smoothly before a light flickered on the control panel and he turned to answer it immediately. "There is another attempt to interfere occurring now."

"What?" Megatron snarled and stalked forward. "What is he attempting?"

Soundwave did not answer immediately as he assessed the complex simulation. "Purpose: additional code into the simulation. Code's function: additional realism. Code's purpose: unknown. Insertion of code: successful. Containment of new code: failed."

"Well find out," Megatron snapped as he stalked away.

* * *

"Please sit and fasten in," Skyfire's voice echoed inside the passenger compartment of fighter-shuttle form and the three mechs inside quickly complied. "We are coming in for a landing."

"So this is where the Prime lives now," the largest of the three of them, almost the size of Ultra Magnus but with the simple matte-finish dusty rose paint of the Guard, murmured to no one as the mountain and the engine end of the Ark became clearly visible.

"Optimus Prime," Whiplash replied just as absently. "He is _very_ different from Nova and Sentinel."

"Every Prime is," Noitefel shrugged. "It's the nature of the Matrix."

"If you're the Captain of the Guard, why didn't you come out first?" Tread Bolt, only partially visible even when relaxed and in friendly company, asked what had been bothering him ever since he'd learned who the large warrior was.

"Because I'm a _mech_, and the call was specifically for femmes," he answered with a touch of annoyance. "The same reason none of us got the gestalt frames. You have to be able to at least do the job well to answer the call."

Everyone went silent as Skyfire touched down and rolled to a quick stop.

"We're here," the shuttle announced and opened the hatch for his passengers to disembark.

Prowl was waiting for them, visibly surprised by the additional visitors. "Whiplash, could you give me a few introductions?" He asked politely, looking between them.

"Tread Bolt," the flier offered before he had the chance. "When I heard what happened, I thought you could use some extra stealth."

"And one of mine," Whiplash added.

"You're probably right," Prowl granted, glancing back at the other new arrival.

"Noitefel, Captain of the Guard," Whiplash introduced the large dusty rose warrior of the more typical door-wing Autobot design. "The rest will be coming with Caurun in a couple orn."

"The Prime is still missing?" Noitefel asked with polite tension in his body and voice.

"Yes," Prowl admitted, his frustration at the fact clear. "We have a clue of where he is though. I have Bumblebee and Mirage trying to confirm that, and rescue them if they can. Come in, I'll bring you all up to speed."

The Captain of the Guard, someone outside the normal rank structure but normally equal to the Autobot Second in Command in most considerations nodded and followed Prowl inside with Whiplash and Tread Bolt.

"I think we should consider putting Skywarp into cold storage," Whiplash spoke quietly, so differently from his counterpart in Jazz. "I know he's high on the list of those Ezara wishes to capture."

"If we can catch him, I'm certainly open to the idea," Prowl nodded slightly. "Especially after this. We need to find a way to defend against his teleportation, either way. But the first concern is rescuing Optimus and the others."

"Always," Whiplash agreed without hesitation or reservation as they walked through the Ark's halls. "If what I understand is correct, all that would be required to capture him is to tell Ezara that she's allowed to. It is not difficult to catch a lover off guard, when you have her capabilities."

"It's worth a chance. Now that we have better capabilities and things have progressed the way they have, there's not much of a way around it. I just hope Megatron doesn't try trading them for Starscream again - we can't give him up at this point."

"I can't believe he would," Whiplash said quietly as they entered the main briefing room. "It's tactically unsound, even by his standards. I could see him trading Jazz or the Guard for Starscream, but giving up Prime or the Toe'Emirc, much less both of them, isn't a likely tactic. He'd never give up that big an advantage."

"You're underestimating how insane Megatron can be. But you're right, it's highly unlikely. We just have to hope that _something_ keeps him from killing them before we can find them." He motioned towards the seats for them to take, hesitating a moment before taking the lead position himself. It didn't feel right, but for the moment he knew it was accurate.

"That thing is whatever reason he captured them, rather than having Skywarp drop something fatal in the room," Whiplash tried to be positive. "That and it's not Megatron's style. He wants to kill Prime in battle, or at least be able to claim he captured him. Have you found the security breach?"

"We suspect that Laserbeak was near the Ark when we began the transmission; he could have detected it, decoded it, and transmitted their location back to the Nemesis easily. Unfortunately, we haven't yet found an encryption protocol that he can't break," Prowl said, bringing up data files for all of them to review. "And he's too small for Teletraan-1 to detect unless we're looking for him specifically."

"Which is resource-inefficient at best," Whiplash nodded and turned his attention to the files. "Have you managed to eliminate anywhere they might be?"

"If you'll check the maps," Prowl said, indicating them. "We've marked out the places we were able to confirm they weren't located. The rest of the surface was run through Teletraan-1, and probability grids were laid out. As you can see, the best odds are that they're actually onboard the Nemesis - which is why Mirage and Bumblebee are currently checking it out. Every available body is checking out the rest of it, except for the red zones. Those are places we're not allowed to fly over."

"At least not visibly," Tread Bolt grinned. "Gotcha. I can check out any hot spots around those locations."

"Especially since you don't look like US military aircraft," Prowl agreed. "Most of the Red Zones are places where a local vehicle form could spark hostilities."

"Commander Prowl," the semi-transparent Autobot Seeker said with just enough deference to avoid a reprimand. "_Decepticon_ sensors can't find me at a hundred paces. These creatures I could walk up to and be missed."

"So stop yapping and get flying," Whiplash flicked his hand to shoo one of his most difficult agents away. "Just no walking up to the native life."

"You are no fun," Tread Bolt stuck his tongue out at his CO before slipping from the room with more grace than expected.

"You'll never get used to him," Whiplash promised with a resigned sound. "He makes your Pit-spawned Twins seem calm, but I can't even begin to calculate the difference he's made in the war since I recruited him."

"We'll have to deal with him one way or the other," Prowl nodded slightly. "Maybe try sticking him with Blurr for a while. I was actually going to assign him to check those out, since we couldn't. Now, for the rest of -" He was cut off by a buzz for entrance at the door.

"Enter," he said, looking over to see who it was, not sure if he should tense or relax when he saw Bumblebee and Mirage. Once he caught Bumblebee's openly dejected expression and Mirage's collected but no less grim one, he went for tensing.

"Report," he kept his voice and manner absolutely professional.

"Good to see you two again," Whiplash cocked a grin at the pair as he relaxed against the edge of the table.

It was quite enough to make Prowl wonder who had rubbed off on who when Jazz had been trained.

"I wish it were under better circumstances," Mirage inclined his head to the Black Op. "They are not on the Nemesis," he turned towards Prowl. "Bumblebee did manage to download Soundwave's project file, but we haven't broken the encryption yet."

"If you can spare Blaster, I'm sure we can crack it in an orn or two," Whiplash said.

"Do it," Prowl nodded. "Perceptor is available as well, if he'll be helpful. Finding them is our top priority. Were you able to recover any other information?" He asked the two intelligence operatives.

"Plenty, but nothing on Prime or the others," Mirage offered Prowl a data disk while Whiplash grabbed the one Bumblebee held up and darted out the door, comming both Blaster and Perceptor before it shut. "We searched it top to bottom. The best we came up with is a list of Decepticon bases we didn't know about, and confirmed the fate of Punch and Ripcord."

"Jazz won't be happy," Prowl sighed, taking the disk from Mirage. "At least you didn't find bodies. Will the two of you be able to help with the decoding, or would you be better used in the search?"

"The search, unless Whiplash says otherwise," Mirage decided easily. "It might be wise to search the human's highest security facilities. Groom Lake in particular."

"If we can get in - however, I'm quite sure we can trust the humans here not to have taken them from the Decepticons. They know how bad an idea that would be," he pointed out.

He knew the look on Mirage's fine features spoke volumes of how little he, and by extension Jazz, believed that. Yet the Intel agent inclined his head in acceptance.

"Where do you wish us to search?" Mirage asked instead.

"Right now, Tread Bolt..." he paused at the way both Mirage and Bumblebee stiffened sharply at the name, and Bumblebee looked downright unsettled. "He's doing aerial recon of the USSR and China. I need the two of you to do more focused searches. Do you know anything about this 'COBRA' group that Ezara had to deal with?"

"Far more than the humans would like and not nearly enough to remove them as a threat," Mirage said with unusual grimness. "They are Earth's equivalent of the Decepticons, and their leader is at least as insane. It is inevitable that they will form an alliance. The only question we don't have answered is when. Their technology makes them a serious threat even to us, should they focus their forces."

"What do you think the odds are that Megatron has picked them to help hide Prime and the others?" Prowl asked him seriously. "And do you know any locations where we could check to see if he has?"

"Fairly high. Yes," Mirage answered, earning a disturbed look from Bumblebee. "Prime's location is most likely within Soundwave's files. I will find out if COBRA knows anything."

"By yourself?" Bumblebee couldn't hold silent anymore. "But..."

"No," Mirage locked optics with him, showing a steel he rarely expressed so blatantly. "You are not cleared for COBRA missions. You will not even _hint_ that this exists."

Bumblebee stepped back, visibly shocked while Prowl watched the exchange with a disturbed fascination. He'd always known that Jazz kept much of his operations under tight security, only bringing the results up when he felt a need to spread the information he gathered, but this went well beyond anything he had anticipated.

"Mirage," Prowl broke the scene between the two Intel agents. "You will bring Whiplash fully up to date on all Intel activities that could potentially pertain to current events. I expect a full report on my desk before you return."

"You do not have the clearance for that, Prowl," Mirage said calmly.

The SiC's face snapped up, his optics narrowing as the line of his mouth tightened. "Just how is that possible?"

Mirage blinked in surprise and stepped back before he collected himself.

"It's classified NTK ... Prime can't demand those files. Only the head of Intel has the clearance to it," Mirage explained calmly. "I will brief Whiplash such as I can, on the chance that he has not cracked Jazz's encryption yet. It is his call how much you need to know."

"Bumblebee - a few moments," Prowl said, waiting for the small scout to leave before continuing. "Just who made that decision regarding Prime?" Prowl asked Mirage evenly. "How long have we been making tactical choices without knowing all the factors? The 'things we don't want to know about' are one thing, but things like COBRA are factors that we need to take into account."

"Everything goes through Jazz or Whiplash as the ranking Intel officers," Mirage began a careful explanation, confusion still written on his fine features. "Jazz keeps me partially in the loop because he's out on missions so often and Whiplash is so far away, but his reasons for any given security rating are not something I am frequently privy to. With COBRA, I have my suspicions, but little more. Jazz takes most of those missions. I know they worry him because it's restricted above my level. Thus they concern me. It is still only Whiplash who has access to the full files and Jazz's notes."

"If it's above your level, how do you even know about it?" Prowl tried again.

"I pulled enough missions to ask," Mirage actually shrugged. "When Jazz tells _me_ to shut up, I do."

Prowl let a long rush of air escape his vents in a frustrated, resigned sigh. "You can warn Whiplash that there will be a _serious_ discussion of Intel's internal regulations when this is over." His optics flared so bright they almost went white as he leaned forward, his voice as deadly as it was cold. "If this has hindered rescuing Prime in any way, there _will_ be the Pit to pay."

The noble nodded, visibly shaken.

"Dismissed," Prowl snapped coldly.

Mirage made short work of his exit, suitably frightened by the Autobot Second in Command.

"To answer your question of when the arrangement began, it was with the founding of what would become the Autobot Intelligence Agency under Vector Prime," Noitefel's deep, strong voice nearly startled Prowl into standing again as he sat down at his desk. "Nova Prime gave them the power they have in full, power they seem to have taken firm control of again under Optimus Prime after the unofficial restrictions Sentinel Prime placed on them. Whippoorwill was their primary contact within the Guard. She knows the history better than anyone alive, except possibly Whiplash."

"At least that answers one thing," Prowl muttered. "It's one thing not to know things at all - it's another when somebody knows them, but not the people making the tactical calls. GIGO strategy is _not_ acceptable. Moving on - do you know anything about teleportation systems?"

"Like Skywarp, or the space bridge?" Noitefel asked easily.

"Skywarp," Prowl clarified. "I'm hoping you might know some way to seal the Ark against his abilities."

"Since you're asking, I'm going to assume the research was largely abandoned," the newly resurrected Guard said with almost Prowl-like calmness and stepped around his desk. "If I may?"

"As far as I'm aware of," Prowl admitted. "Perceptor or Wheeljack probably know more about it, but we've had a few other things to deal with - particularly once the Ark became necessary." He stepped aside, giving Noitefel basic access to the computer. "We'll get your full security set up after we have some time."

"I shouldn't need more than this," the Guard nodded slightly and began zipping through files and reports, pulling up ancient data by keyword and researcher until one required higher clearance, though well below Prowl's. A second and third did, as did half of his name search results. "Would you mind unlocking these?"

Prowl reviewed the requirements briefly, then nodded and moved them on through.

"No offense intended by the review, I just don't know how we're going to handle clearance for those who've been revived yet... the Guard are a special case, though we've minimized it by having them focus on Ezara."

Noitefel made a thoughtful sound at the statement, then put his full focus on the files brought up.

From Prowl's perspective, Noitefel was either already largely familiar with their contents, or nearly as fast at reading as Blurr.

"Any reason I'm allowed to know why we would not be reinstated once our identities are confirmed?" Noitefel asked politely as he snagged a datapad and began scribbling in a form of shorthand Prowl only vaguely recognized despite his extensive education in dialects and ciphers.

"Primarily confirming your identities, but we also have some concerns about possible changes or loss of familiarity with the basics. We don't have enough experience with those who've been revived to know, for sure, how much is left of what they knew before," Prowl explained. "I imagine Prime will restore your clearance quickly, particularly if Jazz and Whiplash agree that it's warranted."

"I'm not sure how Whippoorwill and Skjöldur handled it, but I know I would appreciate a few decaorn to catch up," Noitefel acknowledged without embarrassment. "Even with the regular updates from the newly dead, we have missed so much. So very, very much." He looked up at Prowl, his expression more serious than usual. "As Captain of the Guard, I must object to all five of us assigned to a visiting VIP and none to the Prime."

"You won't be, unless Prime says otherwise," Prowl promised. "How familiar are you with the situation regarding the Tezitan force that's on the way?"

"Given the conversation you just had with Mirage, quite possibly more than you are," he said carefully. "Whiplash brought me very solidly up to date on both Ezara and the Tezita on the assumption I'd be up to my optics in the situation. As I understand, there are six ships coming in two waves," he broke off at the startled expression that briefly flashed across Prowl's face.

"Yes, you have been informed differently than I have," Prowl's mouth formed a tight line.

"The first wave should arrive in a little over a local stellar cycle. The first ship with her command crew and suitors, the second with a dozen warriors, the third with command and Intel, a dozen combined. They will arrive a few decaorns apart. The second wave consists of the three large ships. The first one will arrive on Earth with the challenger and those who will be watching. Some two hundred Tezita, all of notably high rank, all military or the ruling class. Shortly after it arrives the two star cruisers should arrive just outside Cybertron's solar system and hold there. Given how close Cybertron is to Earth now, they may well also get to watch the challenge.

"In all, approximately ten thousand two hundred warriors, six hundred fliers, two hundred medics, a smattering of specialists and the equipment that will allow them to be self-sufficient," Noitefel offered a summary of what he knew.

"It's possible that Prime knew about the details," Prowl granted. "Something like that might not have been something he thought I needed to know about given the time span. But you're definitely right that I was not informed of the details you were. Well, that only makes the point more important. If anything happens to her before they arrive, we'll be on the receiving end of an army that could take Cybertron all by itself, if it wanted to."

"That, I believe, is a likely understatement of the ganon," Noitefel agreed grimly. "It looks like the research was finished, but the project dropped because Skywarp's threat did not warrant the energy required to keep him locked out."

"We'll need to reconsider that, after getting Prime back, unless we catch him in the process," Prowl observed. "For now, I suggest you catch up on what's happened since you were offlined. If you run into anything that needs better clearance, let me know," he said.

"Thank you," Noitefel inclined his head and stood, a flicker of rage-filled grief crossing his features. "I wish I could be of more assistance. A favor, Prowl? If there is an assault to rescue, allow me to be there."

"With pleasure," Prowl nodded. "If you don't mind my asking - who else came back, when the frames arrived?"

"Windsong and Crashcourse of the Guard," he began with the two he was most looking forward to having on Earth. "Nightstalker, one of Whiplash's agents, though he's planning to stay on Cybertron. Stardancer and Skysong are the Seeker-frames. Windfall, Nightrace, Longshot and Rollover are the others."

"It'll be good to get a chance to meet them all," Prowl nodded slightly. "Thank you for the information; let me know if you need anything else."

"Directions to my quarters," Noitefel gave a faint smile. "Skyfire was kind enough to allow me to download a map of the current layout, but he didn't know where I would be staying."

"I'll take you there," Prowl offered. "It'll be faster that way." He led the Captain of the Guard out of the room and down the corridors of the Ark. "Tell me - what do you see the role of the Guard being, through the rest of the war?"

"Long or short, what we have always done," Noitefel's expression was calm and professional. "We keep the Prime alive and in power. Failing that, we bring the Matrix of Leadership to the new Prime." He paused, giving Prowl a studied look. "Optimus is a warrior in a war. I do understand he will not stay off the battlefield as Sentinel would, as I would prefer him to. As you have no doubt seen with Whippoorwill and Skjöldur, we are capable of protecting without getting in the way."

Prowl nodded his acceptance and understanding. It wasn't as if any of them wouldn't give their life for Prime without hesitation.

"I am a strong if predictable warrior and a solid political and campaign tactician," Noitefel continued. "My strengths are in many ways the opposite of yours as a tactician, if I understand your origins correctly. I can hold my own on the battlefield, but real-time small-scale situations are not my forte."

"More political and tactical adviser than front-line one?" Prowl guessed.

"Yes," he nodded, taking in everything they passed. "I was designed to assist the Prime in orchestrating global campaigns; military, civil and political. An advisor of the big picture and planner of movements and tactics to succeed in a campaign. Whether a given battle is won or lost is of less consequence to my programming than how the overall movements of troops and information are flowing over vorn, or even ganon. I believe I can be of value in that role again."

"Definitely, especially after this," Prowl nodded. "Prime... you know about his background, yes?"

"Began as Orion Pax, a dock worker who betrayed us to Megatron and was killed by Megatron for it," Noitefel began easily, though his voice was low enough to avoid being overhead. "Rebuilt into Optimus by Alpha Trion and joined the Autobots not long before Sentinel Prime as killed. Saw a bit of action in Iacon skirmishes under Kup before the Matrix claimed him as the next Prime."

"Exactly," Prowl nodded. "He doesn't have the background in politics that a normal Prime would have - and he's going to be in the thick of it early on."

"So how good is he at taking advice in areas he's weak in?" he asked.

"Very, fortunately," Prowl smiled, stopping in front of Noitefel's quarters. "He recognizes that he wasn't groomed for this, sometimes more than he should."

"Then our timing in returning is all the more fortuitous," he said with a grim expression and tapped in an access code to link the room to him. "We will be ready to protect him from those dangers as well. I can bring you up to speed on the others who were resurrected when you have a moment."

"Perhaps after I've finished reviewing any reports that have come in," Prowl nodded slightly. "I'd like to keep up on the search, in case there are any updates."

"Of course," Noitefel agreed as he stepped into the unadorned room. "Perhaps over an energon break?"

Prowl gave a faint smile for the other tactician's suggestion of having the time do double duty. "I think that would work well. Twenty hundred?"

"I will bring the energon," Noitefel inclined his head and stepped back so the door shut.


	33. Tactical Briefing

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_:  
_Rating_:  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary_: Prowl and Noitefel socialize over dinner.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 33: Diversionary Tactics**

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Prowl looked up from his computer at a chime requesting admittance to his office. Belatedly he realized that it was twenty hundred, to the nanoklik.

"Enter," he called out as he unlocked the door, allowing it to slide open for the Autobot.

"Is now still an acceptable time?" Noitefel asked politely, an energon cube in each hand.

"Perfectly," Prowl motioned him to bring the chair that typically lived in the corner over so they could use the desk for a table. "I've been over these reports a dozen times already, I was just hoping I might have missed something helpful."

"I would find that hard to believe, given the standard Iacon's Enforcers had for their tacticians," Noitefel smiled faintly and offered him a cube before bringing the chair over and sitting down.

His frame settled, though not by much. It was textbook pre-programmed tactician relaxing, and it gave Prowl a sense of ease greater than he'd felt since Iacon was destroyed. It was so familiar, to be in the company of one's own kind again. He'd long ago suppressed memories of the sensation to avoid thinking of who he'd lost, the faces of those he had once spent his down-time with. It was easier to focus on his duties that way.

"Who should I thank for such an exceptional replication of my original frame?" Noitefel continued.

"Thank you," Prowl said, taking a sip of his dinner. "You can thank Whippoorwill. We thought it would be easier for those who were still inside to come back if their shells matched what they were used to, so we did our best. She gave us the specs, Ratchet, Wheeljack, Perceptor and Ezara built them. Sunstreaker handled the cosmetics."

"It worked well," Noitefel inclined his head. "She's a good bot. Warped in the programming to the core, but a good bot," he paused for a sip of his energon. "I'll start with my team.

"Windsong was brought in as much because of his talent as an entertainer and ability to improve Sentinel Prime's mood as any good reason," Noitefel's expression was almost fond in it's annoyance. "I think you may find him the most useful of us off the battlefield. Give him an instrument and room and he can bend the mood of anyone in audio range. He's a top-notch spy too, though he's offended at the statement. He makes it his business to know everything about everyone, friend and foe, and uses it to our advantage. He's something of a joker to us, but given you have The Twins and Tread Bolt around, you'll barely notice him."

"Did he and Blaster ever meet?" Prowl chuckled lowly. "Sound like spark-mates."

"I doubt it. I don't believe Blaster was brought on line until well after our deaths," he said evenly. "I'm sure they will have an interesting time learning each other. Just practice shutting off your audio impute until they settle down."

"Oh, Jazz is the one who'll be having an interesting time of it. He's bonded to Blaster - when there's not a mission involved, they're practically inseparable. They actually understand each other - more than anybody else can say half the time, between their linguistic quirks. Go on, it just seemed like an interesting meet up," Prowl offered.

Noitefel nodded. "With Crashcourse the name says it all. He's like Skjöldur in many ways; out front, taking the damage and dealing it, but while Skjöldur is a shield, standing between her charge and danger, Crashcourse is all about an aggressive, violent offense as the best defense. We generally don't take him to state functions, for good reason. He's not a true wild card; he is easily controlled as to when to unleash his aggression. The difficulty he has is in avoiding collateral damage to anything except his charge once he is turned loose."

"That will _not_ sit well with Prime," Prowl warned him. "Do you think it's something that he can be trained to restrain?"

Noitefel considered him for a lingering moment. "Perhaps I misspoke. On the battlefield, he's no more dangerous to us than Sunstreaker. Off the battlefield, he's better controlled. His weakness comes into play when friend and foe are not so easily distinguished. I'm not always pleased with his focus, but like the others trained under Nova Prime, he never gave me cause to remove him. It would be simple to have a situation where he would react incorrectly, however that would require significant tactical misconduct on my part. I know him. I know how to use him."

"The main question is this - if Megatron was about to fire on Prime from behind a building full of civilians, how would he handle the situation?" Prowl asked him seriously. "If the answer is to 'shoot through the building,' then there are going to be problems."

"Then you're going to have problems," he admitted. "He'd try to avoid the building, though only because it would reduce the effectiveness of his attack. That will be true for _all_ of the Guard," he regarded Prowl. "It is what we are. Our charge comes before all else, including their own desires. If the choice is between an inhabited planet and the Prime, the planet will die."

"Oh, you'll _love_ hearing what Prime did when Cybertron was moved into this system then," Prowl chuckled. "He borrowed Sideswipe's jetpack and went up after the Nemesis II himself."

His mirth died the instant he saw the affect on the other tactician. While other types of mechs regularly complained about how expressionless they were, to those with a matching code base it was as easy as reading themselves.

Noitefel's door wings went rigid and all the color drained from his optics in abject horror.

For a moment Prowl wondered if he was going to have to call Ratchet in for a blown logic circuit, but Noitefel seemed to gather himself with effort.

"Where were Whippoorwill and Skjöldur at the time?" he asked, still visibly struggling to deal with just what kind of personality he was now in charge of protecting.

"On Cybertron with Ezara - I believe they were following her to try and destroy Nemesis from the Cybertron end of things," Prowl explained. "We were only aware he was doing it when he told Sideswipe to hand him his jet pack. I'll admit, I'm not sure if _he_ was even aware he was going to do it until then. It was one of those 'desperate attempt' moments."

Noitefel cycled his vents and nodded, adapting his tactics to the information. "Does he do such things often?"

"More often than any of us would like," he admitted. "Though not regularly."

"At least there is that," Noitefel sighed slightly before continuing on with the briefing. "My Second in Command, Whippoorwill, is a brilliant Grifter; as talented as Jazz but with a less violent, more criminal bent. I trust her implicitly with what counts, but never, ever forget where she came from and how she got to us. Mech or femme, medic, mob boss, gladiator, noble, councilmech, businessmech, Intel ... she'll talk her way into anything, anywhere, anytime. Become anything she chooses, changing in a sparkbeat and able to hold up under all but the strongest telepathic review. She's had more bodies and IDs than I dare to contemplate. Her saving grace is her loyalty. Once earned, she'll do anything for you. Whether you approve of her methods or not.

"Oh Primus preserve us," he murmured in a spark felt plea as his optics flared brightly. "She's Captain of the Guard now, if she thinks about it, and she will."

"And is that changed by your revival?" Prowl asked him. No matter what else happened - all things equal, he'd _much_ rather have Noitefel to work with.

"No," he shook his head slightly. "It's a matter of experience and capability. She's by far my junior, but she knows Optimus, this war and world far better than I do. She might not make an issue of it, which will leave me as Captain. We'll know when she's back," he settled down. "It won't take long to sort it out."

"Understood," Prowl accepted the determination would have to wait, and it was likely going to be something between the five of them and he would simply be informed of the results.

"Stardancer and Skysong were both Seeker Neutrals being courted by the Decepticons. They're a bonded couple. Stardancer is an explorer by training, Skysong a xeno-biologist and xeno-sociologist. While I doubt Megatron cared about their credentials, their skill as a combat team was impressive. They're one of those pairs that get into trouble regularly, and are every bit as good at getting themselves out by talking or fighting.

"The main issue with them is a kick-aft grudge against Starscream. All this time and I'm still not sure exactly what angers them so greatly, given he apparently wasn't there when they died and they don't blame him for it. I believe it has something to do with Skyfire and their common history as explorers. Traitor is used regularly, but not the way most do. They're less dedicated to the Autobot cause as they are anti-Decepticon, but they are solid mechs and I expect they will be as loyal to us as we are to them over time."

"They'll certainly get along well with Ezara," Prowl observed. "Is their problem with the Decepticons mostly Starscream?"

"No, that is a combination of killing their bonded, destroying the Institute of Science - which seems to have infuriated them the most - and being, as Skysong phrased it 'a group of half-processor rejects from a youth center without a line of respect for knowledge between them'. They just hate Starscream more than most."

"Well, at least they're not going to sign on with Megatron as soon as they find out that Starscream is slated for our repair program," Prowl said with something of a sigh of relief. "Or at least not thinking about it. He'd take them, I'm sure - and then it would be pretty well over for them, from what we've discovered. I can certainly understand their reasons though. We'll welcome their help either way."

"I'm sure," Noitefel inclined his head. "The list of names I sent Whippoorwill out with are all those whom I deem to have a negligible chance of defecting. I have had a great deal of time with all of them. Even if I do not know all the details of their lives I do know their Sparks well."

"That is good. Next?" Prowl prompted easily, finishing his own energon and enjoying this relatively relaxed time with his own kind.

"Nightstalker is a stealth mech, one of Whiplash's killers he agreed to transfer to Jazz. I don't know him well, but Whiplash was extremely excited to have him back in action."

"Did he agree to the transfer prior to the Nightstalker's death, or after his resurrection?" Prowl asked, trying to get a feel for how much Jazz would know the new mech.

"When his name was given as one of those who'd be called back," he said. "As I understand, he was Whiplash's Kaon division chief when Jazz was new to Intel. Nightstalker seemed pleased that Jazz was in charge here when Whiplash told him who he'd be answering to. I did hear enough about Jazz while we were in the Well to believe they know each other reasonably well and get along."

"It is rare not to get along with Jazz," Prowl allowed a faint smile to cross his face. "He is quite the charmer."

"So I have heard, among other things," Noitefel agreed. "He's also one of the best combat assassins and infiltrators that Whiplash has trained."

Prowl didn't hold back the curious look. "I was not aware Jazz was Black Ops."

Noitefel's optics unfocused for a moment before he met Prowl's again. "I do not believe he was ever classified as such," he explained carefully. "I am not entirely sure why, as he has the training. It may have something to do with Whiplash's intentions for his future."

"There is a distinct sub society among Intel bots," Prowl acknowledged both it's existence and his ignorance of it's details.

"Very much so, more than most closed societies," Noitefel agreed. "There's another Intel bot coming, though she's not a field agent. Windfall is a scientist with a true gift for SpecOps mods. At least according to her, she was in a serious relationship with Jazz. She's promised she understands he's with Blaster, and apparently it doesn't bother her. It seems that exclusive has never been used to describe Jazz."

"That much is true," Prowl nodded slightly. "He is the unofficial moral officer for more than his happy personality."

"As I understand it, it is common with Intel agents," Noitefel agreed. "I've been told it's because they live such dangerous lives and are frequently put in situations where interfacing is part of the job. Being intimately loyal to only one mech is a significant liability in field work."

Prowl nodded in agreement, even though all he had to go by were the reports Jazz and others had submitted to him over the ganon.

"Tailgater is a speed demon. Jazz chased him more often than ran with him, but up against 'Cons, he's a Pit-spawn of a frontliner, and less dangerous to us than the twins."

"Oh my," Prowl murmured, mostly to himself as old memories clicked into place.

"You know him?" Noitefel asked as he finished his energon.

"Too well," he nodded. "An unrepentant minor criminal. He will get along well with this crew."

Noitefel nodded. "Rollover is your basic warrior. There is a significant probability that Sunstreaker and Sideswipe will remember him, as he definitely remembers Sunstreaker. Another arena fighter recruited early in the war when the Decepticons mishandled recruiting him."

"Fair enough," Prowl nodded slightly. "Do you think that any of the new recruits would be good picks for civilian enforcement, once this is over with?"

"No," he shook his head. "The Guard will remain Guard, Intel with Intel, the scientists will go back to their studies at first opportunity. Tailgater and Rollover may not go back to what they were, but the safest place for society is to keep them in active military service. There are several Enforcers on the list of those to come back. They were not in this group." He paused, thinking it over. "If you try hard enough, you could probably recruit Tailgater, though I wouldn't."

"No, I really don't think that _I_ could recruit him," Prowl chuckled lowly. "If he's who I think he is, I suspect I've pulled him over a time or three. It was worth asking though. We've lost the majority of the civil Enforcers in the war already; I'll need to have people to start with afterwards. Having an ending in sight has made me think more about it," he admitted.

"I can't say it's a bad thing, to finally be thinking of peace again," a faint smile ghosted across Noitefel's features. "I suspect Prime will give you first place in requisitioning new mechs from Vector Sigma, and the Tezita seem likely to help until you have a suitable force." He paused and cocked his head slightly. "I know you were an Iacon tactical advisor before the war. Do you know what your rank and status will be after, given you are Prime's Second in Command now?"

"Not a clue," Prowl admitted. "Ultra Magnus will probably take his place as military commandant. I wouldn't even really want the job, myself. Where I'll end up in civil enforcement will depend on who's left, and who comes back. Especially the latter - I don't suppose any of the old Commanders are still there?" He asked hopefully.

"Not that want to come back anymore," he shook his head slightly. "The fire it takes to refuse Primus for any length of time is largely the providence of the young, and the more than slightly crazy."

"You and Skjöldur hardly strike me as being young, by anybody's estimate," Prowl observed with a smile.

"We're the Prime's Guard," Noitefel returned the look with a touch of amusement. "Not right in the processor comes with the title, and definitely the territory. It is not natural to be that loyal to someone you are not spark-bound to, never mind the other realities of the job. Crazy is not always a bad thing, when properly directed. While most Guard will bristle at the comparison, it is what makes heroes possible."

"And that's the sort of Prime you have to protect, this time around," Prowl explained with a fond tone. "Ultimately, it's his biggest flaw as well as his biggest strength. One of the things you'll have to deal with is the fact that, even though he's a soldier, he doesn't believe in collateral damage. He'll put himself in the way if it means saving somebody less capable of protecting himself, Cybertronian or otherwise. It makes Earth a very dangerous battlefield for him, ultimately."

"Which makes _us_ all the more important to his survival," Noitefel only barely kept his distressed anger in check. "He may be willing to take the hit, but it's our job to make sure he doesn't have to. It will not be so different than protecting Nova, I expect, though with less of an ego. By all accounts, he is the worst kind of individual to try and protect," his gaze unfocused and shifted to something not in the physical realm. "In another time, he would have been a prime candidate for the Guard."

"Tell him that after we get him back," Prowl said seriously. "He needs a little reinforcement, once in a while. Of course, in another time, he'd have never become Prime, and never have needed to develop the way he did," he admitted. "If you want to keep him safe, the best way is to get the civvies off the battlefield as quickly as possible."

"I will, and quite true, though I'd call keeping the civilians clear is the second best way of protecting him," he gave the other tactician a small, teasing smile. "Letting Intel stop the battles before they start is even more affective in my experience."

"Yes, but it's one that you'll have a very difficult time selling Prime on," Prowl warned him. "He doesn't like assassinations. And neither do I, though I recognize that Whiplash couldn't give two nuts for what I care about them."

Noitefel chuckled softly. "He doesn't particularly give two nuts what _Prime_ thinks either. If he were not fanatically loyal to the Autobot cause, to the Matrix of Leadership, he would be a truly devastating Decepticon. I calculate that he would have replaced Megatron within half a ganon, and wiped us out of existence in the second half.

"He _is_ fanatically loyal to us," Noitefel reiterated at the distressed tinge in Prowl's optics. "He simply can not wrap his processor around the concept that there is a good reason not to kill any Decepticon he has the opportunity to. He will do better on Cybertron," he continued more quietly. "Ultra Magus is more ... pragmatic ... about allowing his tactician to do as he pleases, as long as few Autobots are killed."

"Magnus started out as military," Prowl nodded. "Though I wonder how he hasn't taken Shockwave out, as long as he's had."

"I believe it is for the same reason he was never allowed to take out Megatron," Noitefel said. "The next in the command structure would be far worse for us. Sometimes leaving the leadership intact is the most sound tactic. Even Whiplash understands that. He _is_ a solid tactician, even if his preference is towards special ops."

"Fair enough," Prowl nodded. "I don't know much about how things are going back on Cybertron beyond what I hear from the visitors."

"It's generally kept quiet, I expect, just how deep into Black Ops Whiplash is, given he's Ultra Magnus' SIC and tactician," he said as he relaxed again. "Since I expect I will be with this crew for some time, who are the notable pairings, especially those who affect battlefield performance?"

"The ones that will affect tactics the most are Ezara's attachment to both Prime and Jazz. She has repeatedly put herself in harms way to protect them. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe will protect each other at any cost."

"Typical of twins," Noitefel nodded. "They are lovers, or simply brothers?"

"Lovers, since they first came on line as I understand it," he answered. "Jazz and Blaster are a bonded couple, though as Blaster is generally well behind the front line, it rarely affects Jazz's behavior."

"Given who trained Jazz I doubt it would affect him anyway," Noitefel commented. "Even as a youth trainee Whiplash was focused that way. He wouldn't train anyone he didn't trust as much. But back to those with strong commitments."

"Ratchet is committed to both Ironhide and Wheeljack, though they are not a triad," Prowl continued. "Unless Ratchet is in danger, it rarely affects our job."

"You?" Noitefel asked.

"My job," Prowl said, sounding mildly amused by it. "Despite the efforts of some of the others."

The Guard chuckled in matching amusement. "So who finds tacticians so interesting?"

"It's not so much the tactician part they're interested in. They're interested in the fact that I'm not, for the most part. They're interested in the challenge, rather than me."

Noitefel curled his lip up in an irritated sneer of distaste before he settled back to the calm normal of their kind. "I see. I am familiar with the type. Have they tried with Skjöldur yet? Or I should ask, has she broken anyone yet for trying?"

"They're persistent, not suicidal," Prowl snorted through his vents. "They learned very quickly that you don't want to push her, even the twins."

"I think that may be a miracle itself," he laughed darkly. "Those two have a reputation that even reached me. I was half expecting to have Ratchet lecture me about the character of Autobot in the Guard when I saw him in the common room."

That raised an eyebrow and curious look.

"I have seen her _push_ a mech through a wall when she is finally annoyed," Noitefel smiled at old memories, even when they weren't particularly good ones. "Granted it was a very long time ago," his optics dimmed slightly as he focused on the present again and locked Prowl with an expression that demanded he keep the next words in confidence. "I have noticed that it is more difficult to focus, especially to control my reactions to memories, since I have a body again."

"How much more difficult?" he focused sharply.

"Six percent," came the answer. "Sufficient to notice. Not sufficient to require medical attention, yet."

"I will watch you," Prowl promised with a slight inclination of his head.

"Thank you," Noitefel returned the gesture.

"Is it something you think the others will have to deal with as well?" Prowl asked him. "We haven't noticed it in Skoldur or Whippoorwill, but we know little about them from before."

"There is a 98.7692% probability it is not limited to the three Guard," he answered. "I doubt it will be noticeable to anyone that did not know one of us very well before. Whiplash did not express any concern about the state of Nightstalker or Windfall after he examined them. I believe that, in addition to the Guard, is sufficient to render the change negligible in significance if it does not become worse."

"I'm fine with that," Prowl agreed. "Thank you for telling me though."

"It is always good to have a second set of processors paying attention," he said. "I intend to inform Ratchet if it reaches ten percent in my estimation, or if it interferes with my activities."

"Good," Prowl relaxed a bit more. "I'd say your logic center is intact then."

"Windsong and Crashcourse agree. We are all keeping a careful watch on each other," he paused at an internal chime. "It is time to debrief my team before recharge. Would you be agreeable to sharing breakfast?"

"Certainly," Prowl nodded. "Zero six hundred, here. Maybe I'll have some better news for you by then."

"There is always a chance, no matter how slim," Noitefel gave him another faint, tactician smile and stood to leave, taking both empty cubes with him. "I will bring breakfast."

"Thank you," Prowl returned the smile and watched as the matte-finish, dusty rose colored mech, one very similar in design to himself, left.

In his emotional processor, he recognized the pleasant sensations of relief at another pre-programmed tactician to talk to and a companionable affection towards one who understood his core programming.

That the other held similar rank to himself made it all the better.


	34. Diversionary Tactics

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_:  
_Rating_:  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary:_

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 34: Diversionary Tactics**

* * *

Ratchet didn't so much as glance up from his work on Starscream's stasis-locked form when the alarm sounded. His only concession to the emergency was to ping Teletraan-1 for the details and alter the surgery plans to compensate for the Autobots who would need his attention in roughly three joor. He could easily have the Seeker stable and back in cold storage by then.

Time passed, the work went well. He closed Starscream up, satisfied that his CPU was no longer directly linked to his weapon systems. The fourth of scours of such surgeries.

"Thanks for fixing him," a dark, malicious voice laughed behind him.

Ratchet twisted, driving forward to land his infamous right hook against the larger bot's jaw, only to come face to face with Skywarp's arm cannon.

"And they say _I'm_ the dumb one," Skywarp sneered at him.

"What do you want?" Ratchet growled, his optics flicking towards the med bay entrance even as he realized a response would be slow to come between the battle raging in LA and the missing bots.

"My Air Commander," Skywarp shrugged and moved Ratchet away from his patient with a wave of his cannon. "Why the old slag heap wants the traitor back is beyond me, but I'm not crazy enough to ask."

Ratchet complied with the unspoken demands, slowly shifting away from the surgery table as he tried to calculate the best way to survive this. He watched as Skywarp sauntered to his stasis-locked leader and picked him up. The awkwardness of the dead weight forced him off balance and took his cannon off Ratchet, but before the medic could do anything but realize it, both Seekers were gone.

"Frag," he cursed under his breath and commed Prowl in the control room. "The invader was Skywarp. He's got Starscream. They're gone now."

"Understood," the tactician's voice held just the faintest trace of irritation.

* * *

Melinda steeled herself for another round of explaining the lifecycle of humans to her master's guests. She should have expected this, she knew, the first time Ezara had a menstrual cycle. The woman was too impulsive and her guards only challenged physical threats.

She was even sure who it was, given the personalities involved. Optimus would never be careless once he knew what precautions to take, though he would submit to Ezara's will if she _wanted_ it. But Jazz ... he was careful, despite his happy go lucky display, yet the chemistry between them was like thermite; stable until set off by the presence of the other. Then it was damn near uncontrollable; they'll either kill or fuck each other senseless, and they didn't seem to care which it was.

She glanced around the room and noted that they were in their usual positions; Optimus had a fine scotch and was sitting on one of the large leather chairs. Jazz was curled up with Ezara on the love seat with something that smelled decidedly over-sweet and looked like blood in her glass while his was soda and something. Skjöldur and Whippoorwill were on duty, as always, standing at opposite sides of the room and making their usual effort to appear to be part of the setting.

"What did you wish to discuss?" Optimus' deep, smooth voice was calming in it's strength and command. In five months she had learned each of them, and she understood fully why even the under-socialized firebrand of a killer that was Ezara bowed to his will uncontested.

"Another issue with biological life that I believe you're about to have to deal with," Melinda explained. "Ezara came to me with some concerns recently, and I believe the issue is that she's pregnant."

"Pregnant?" Optimus rolled the word around his mind, trying to link it to something.

Ezara was faster, a hint of excitement in her voice. "Carrying a youngling, a pre-protoform."

"Tezita do that?" Jazz asked, looking at her with a bit of surprise that was shortly smothered by a searing kiss.

Melinda cleared her throat, hoping to stop it before they began to grope each other. By then it was a lost cause.

"Mmm, sort of," Ezara answered the question as she focused on the room again. "Not quite like this, but the old way of creating a youngling used part of your body to build its foundation form. It explains a lot too," she paused and pulled Jazz a little closer, though her eyes lingered on Optimus. "Can you still feel them?" she asked softly.

"Can we focus on the original topic?" Optimus asked, looking over at Melinda. "What is she in for, what can we expect?"

"Hormonal fluctuations, severe mood swings, strange food cravings, weight gain," she paused considering who she was speaking of. "Your center of balance will continue to shift as the fetus grows. We should have you begin seeing a, OB/GYN; a doctor specialized in obstetrics and gynecology, the female reproductive system and pregnancy."

"One who can take weird," Ezara added uneasily, her frame tensing sharply. "I'm not _just_ a pregnant human. My Tezitan reproductive programming and spark-instincts are getting stronger."

"How 'weird' do you expect that will make things?" Melinda asked her, watching her press against Jazz a bit more.

Ezara gave it a bit of thought. "If she doesn't ask too much, sticks to the physical, probably not much. I'm still a Beast Spark, even in this frame. The protective drive is ... beyond intense until it's born. Half the time it doesn't make any sense if I think about it."

"Instincts are like that," Jazz gave her a gentle squeeze.

"Unfortunately, there is more than the physical that will be involved," Melinda pointed out. "Your health is more than simply mechanics now... we'll see who we can find though. I have a couple of candidates who might be good."

Ezara nodded, shifting uneasily. "What do human newborns need? It'd be good ta have that on hand. Bonding with a youngling is never a sure thing."

"What type of bonding do you have in mind?" Melinda asked her.

"Umm, urrr," she struggled to put something she only vaguely knew about into words. "Newborns need care, right?" she asked instead.

"Yes, a great deal of it," she nodded patiently.

"Well, Beast Sparks like me have a hard time bonding with our young. They usually have to be cared for by others," Ezara tried to explain it. The memories of what Lyzen did were clear. The mechanics and reasoning behind it were not on the best of days. "Lyzen spent a lot of time making sure the younglings had a caretaker that wouldn't turn on them."

"I'd have thought it would be easier to happen than with others," Melinda mused. "It is possible to hire somebody who can care for them - especially these days, more and more mothers are working parents, who don't have the time to care for their newborns. Though you'll be in bed for some time after giving birth, in the best of situations."

That didn't settle well with Ezara at all and she didn't hide it.

"How did your species evolve if you can't fight or escape..." she abruptly stopped herself. "Social bonds," she answered herself. "It would be best to hope I have maternal coding, but assume it won't activate. The odds are against it. What else should I know about being a pregnant human?"

"You've already encountered the early side effects, though it could also enhance your libido for a while. Hormonal imbalances could lead to some very strange mood swings, and food cravings, even for how you normally compare to ordinary humans," she explained. "Nausea... the main thing is that it will take about nine months."

"How do ya tell how far along it is?" Jazz asked as his mind turned over the potentially deadly information he'd already received, including the miniscule odds that a Decepticon sim would include an active pregnancy sub-routine.

"You count from her first missed menstrual cycle and add nine months. It's inexact at best," she explained. "This does mean we'll need a full legal name for both parents, even if the birth certificate is the only place they appear." She glanced between Jazz and Optimus. "Who will be listed as the father?"

"Won't it be obvious when it's born?" Ezara cocked her head.

"Umm, no," Melinda shook her head. "There are paternity tests, but they take a long time. It would be best to pick the most likely agreeable candidate."

"That'd be me," Jazz spoke up before Optimus could even process that the question was being asked.

Melinda flicked a look at Ezara, who nodded in agreement.

"It would be good to know, just to be sure, but Jazz is most likely," Ezara added, stroking his dark brown hair almost possessively. "So any instincts I should try to curtail for the next few months?"

"Eating meat raw and fighting are the primary ones," Melinda explained. "Rough sex should be avoided, anything that can harm you _as a human..._ The Ob/Gyn can explain better, but those are the basics."

Ezara nodded, as did Jazz.

It was his comprehension that made Melinda relax slightly; if he understood Ezara would comply, for the most part.

"Okay, that done," Ezara took control of the room, her gaze on Optimus. "Can you _feel_ them?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Of course, whenever I changed, it would have been part of the components that were altered. What about you?" He asked her.

"No," she shook her head slightly. "It's ... just me. I wasn't expecting much, but Mitrix ... this is what she _does_. She shouldn't be quiet. Singer's a much better caretaker. She shouldn't be quiet either."

"Is it possible that they're busy working on trying to find a way to fix this?" He asked her gently, intuitively aware from his visits to her mindscape that the others being absent was a Very Bad Thing for everything around her.

Ezara shook her head. "Even if they aren't talking to me, I can _feel_ them if I try. At the very least Stormfire's existence. He's never busy."

"Is this why you've been having the difficulties we've been noticing?" He asked as gently as he could.

She seemed to think about it, then nodded faintly. "Probably. My social programming has never been very advanced."

"It's just going to get worse then, won't it?" Jazz looked up at her, his mind working double-time to separate out what was Ezara and what was imposed on her. The results were anything but comforting.

"Pretty much," she sighed and leaned back. "Early arena days, maybe before that."

"How animalistic were you, before then?" Melinda asked, considering what might happen.

Ezara dug around her memories before answering. "At best, it was a simple survival of the fittest - by strength or wits. At worst, pre-language."

"Is there any way you can think of to slow the process? At least until you've given birth?"

Her gaze drifted down to Jazz, trying to process her own behavior patterns with limited success.

"Ah'm not sure about slow it, but ah know how to control'r," Jazz spoke up, his voice quiet. "It just won't be pretty."

"Are you willing to give any details?" Melinda asked him.

"He makes sure I know my place as secondary to him," Ezara spoke up. "Basic pack rank. It taps into the handful of truly unshakable core programs for a Beast Spark. Within capabilities, subordinate members will do anything they can for their leader. As long as Jazz can remain the leader, he can do a lot to keep me from lashing out."

"I thought Optimus was your leader," Melinda gave the largely quiet older mech an uneasy look.

"I am, but Ezara is not an Autobot," he said easily. "Her rank among the Lydrom is equal to my own among the Autobots."

"It's an SpecOp thing," Jazz added. "Among the Lydrom, the head of Intelligence is the final arbiter of life and death. I have the same position, so especially when it comes to instinct-driven reactions, I have the advantages of that conditioning."

"I could speak with Thomas, about developing a 'safe room' for you," Melinda offered. "One where, if things were getting too bad for you, you couldn't hurt yourself or anything else."

Jazz whispered something in her ear, and her uncertain scowl disappeared, though she was still thoughtful as she nodded. "A den would be good," she acknowledged. "I'd probably start trying to build one anyway. Just wouldn't be in the house."

"I'll do that," Melinda nodded. "Perhaps you and Jazz can help design it?"

"Sure thing," he grinned. "I've had a very thorough tour of her head and spark."

* * *

"So it was a distraction," Ironhide grumbled as the current ranking officers of the Ark, plus Noitefel, finished updating each other on the events of the past few joor. "Just what kind of condition will Starscream be in when they wake'm up?"

"Functional, though he'll feel off balance. They may not even realize how far I got in undoing the Forge's rewiring of him," Ratchet summarized.

"Would I be correct in extrapolating that his combat abilities are impaired, though not enough he would notice immediately?" Noitefel asked.

"That is my understanding," Prowl inclined his head slightly.

"Yap," Ratchet nodded.

"So," Whiplash locked his optics on the SIC and current CO. "Am I authorized to pick him up, if we come across him?"

"He'd _better_ be," Ratchet said, earning a scowl from Prowl before he nodded.

"Yes. Starscream, at this point, is in a very delicate condition. But bring him in _in one piece_. With as little violence as possible," Prowl warned him. "We don't know what condition his mind is in."

"Confused would be my bet," Whiplash tried not to snicker. "Should recovering him be a priority, after our own?"

"Yes," Prowl nodded. "The next opportunity we have. I'm sorry to say it may come before the recovery attempt. How is the search progressing?"

"Very well, at least in terms of marking locations they are not," Whiplash said with a small scowl. "We've managed to break the first five layers of encryption on Soundwave's files, though there is no clue yet as to where they are. Mirage has confirmed that COBRA is not involved to their knowledge."

"A good thing, though it means we're running out of place to look without doing house-to-house searches ... I assume we've checked Dr. Arkeville's known lairs?" Prowl asked, glancing between Ironhide and the others who'd been more involved in the search.

"Nothing there," Ironhide nearly growled, only to stop and look at Whiplash with a scowl laced with curiosity. The Intel officer had frozen, his expression as tightly blank as anything Prowl could pull off.

Prowl glanced at Ratchet, who motioned everyone to just wait.

Less than a klik later Whiplash refocused to the room.

"What was _that_?" Red Alert demanded nervously.

"That was a very old secure comm link protocol with a tight data burst," the Intel commander explained briefly. "Coordinates, security info, base schematics." He focused on Prowl. "This is either from one of my deep-cover agents, or faked as such. I can take a team to confirm, but I doubt the three of us can pull all five out on our own."

"Coordinates?" Prowl asked, turning to his console and bringing up his data on available resources even as he entered the location Whiplash gave him. "If you're right, I want us in place to retrieve them as quickly as possible. You'll have to confirm first, of course, but we can begin bringing people in, recharging, and moving to the locale."

"We can be ready to go within the joor," Whiplash said. "Myself, Mirage and Tread Bolt on the inside, with Bumblebee as backup and comm link outside."

"Prepare for it then," Prowl nodded. "Give us what information you can before you go; I'll want to start on preliminary planning. We can change the details in the field, once you've confirmed the intel."

"Will do," the small black mech nodded and stood to leave, already pinging his agents to coordinate their mission.

"I'll get my field kit and First Aid ready," Ratchet said as he stood to leave as well.

"How can he get a transmission I don't?" Red Alert tried to still his overwrought processor.

"Intel to Intel," Noitefel told him. "The system is designed to prevent the 'Cons from picking it up from inside their base. Your systems don't stand a chance."

"And since they have to get past Soundwave, nobody's going to hold it against you," Prowl added, reviewing the files Whiplash had left. "Send out a recall notice; I want every able fighter charged and ready for a fight, depending on how this goes. Ironhide - want to handle a distraction of your own this time?" He asked the veteran warrior.

"Yes," he nodded. "We have enough warriors, especially if the new ones arrive in fighting shape."

"Good. As soon as they arrive, and Whiplash confirms the intel, I want you to launch a full-scale assault on the Nemesis," Prowl said grimly. "Do what damage you can, and if Starscream's there try and capture him. Don't take any chances though - this is a feint. An attack on the Nemesis should lure most of the 'Cons away, particularly Megatron. The rest of us will move in and retrieve Optimus and the others."

"We'll be ready," Ironhide nodded. "Who will be on the retrieval team?"

"Myself, Ratchet, Trailbreaker and Whiplash's team..." Prowl thought for a moment, considering the logistics. "You take the Aerialbots, Protectobots, Dinobots and Caurun with you; we'll take the Twins, Hoist and Huffer with Prime's trailer, in case we need the cargo capacity to get them out."

"The Guard will be going with the rescue team," Noitefel spoke up, his voice firm though his optics went to Prowl to confirm their earlier agreement.

"Agreed," the other tactician nodded. "The other newcomers should remain at the Ark with Blaster, Perceptor and Wheeljack."

"Skyfire?" Noitefel looked at Prowl as both of them silently considered the best use for the shuttle.

"This is officially creepy," Ironhide murmured to Red Alert.

"Standby between the two units - whoever ID's Starscream first, alert him," Prowl said, looking between Noitefel and Ironhide. "His best use will be trying to bring him in, on multiple levels."

Ironhide nodded. "You know, it might not be a bad idea to have Tread Bolt join Skyfire once Prime's been found. The file Ultra Magnus forwarded did say he's a top-notch combat flier. It'd be good to have someone capable of actually taking Screamer down by force if need be."

"Negative," Prowl said, shaking his head. "We'll need the air support at our location," he explained. "You'll have the Aerialbots and Caurun with you, who'll be able to help in a pinch if necessary. We can't risk trying to evacuate the others without having a competent flyer with us. No offense to Sideswipe, but his jetpack doesn't exactly count against possible Seekers."

Ironhide grunted acceptance.

"Then I think we have the plan until more intel comes in," Noitefel suggested.


	35. Assault and Rescue

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Jazz/Ezara  
_Rating_: PG  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary:  
_

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 35: Assault and Rescue**

* * *

"First Aid, Ratchet, do you have sufficient supplies?" Prowl barked out, guiding the preparations from just outside of the Ark. The two medics both nodded and he turned his attention to the ammo that was being loaded into Blades and Silverbolt.

"Everything's secured," Ironhide said before he could ask.

"Good," he nodded, turning towards Noitefel, who was supervising as Huffer was loaded with enough explosives to atomize a significant portion of the Ark if they were used correctly. "Caurun and the others should be here soon - can you take control of preparations while I brief them?"

"Yes," the Guard's tactician barely nodded, though it was exactly the response Prowl was expecting.

Prowl allowed himself half a nanoklik to enjoy the other's professional manner and how soothing it was before returning to his tasks. The meteor-like ship was already in the atmosphere, but out of respect for the rules Prowl had set down it would take nearly half a joor to reach the Ark and set down.

::Prowl, what is my next load?:: Skyfire asked as his large form banked for a landing.

::Spare weapons and ammunition,:: Prowl responded. ::Have you had any luck at duplicating the Nullifier for our use yet?::

::Negative. With a few orn of uninterrupted work, I could possibly have the ones we took useable by a similar Seeker-frame. That is as close as I am,:: Skyfire said as he landed near Blades and Silverbolt shortly before the pair took off.

"Load'm up!" Ironhide ordered at no one in particular and everyone of lesser rank.

::After this shipment, take up your position between the two points,:: Prowl ordered Skyfire. ::And good luck.::

::Will do. Prowl...:: Skyfire's voice was uncertain as he was loaded with equipment. ::Is it true that Stardancer and Skysong are among those returning today?::

::They are,:: Prowl agreed. ::Do you have issues with them?::

::Issues? Dear Primus no!:: Skyfire almost physically balked. ::They're who inspired me to become a scientist and explorer. They're _heroes_ to three generations.::

::Well, you'll have the chance to meet them after this is all over - and maybe then they can get to know Starscream without the Forge twisting him,:: Prowl offered. ::They won't be along on the mission unless something goes very, very wrong though.::

::I think you will find them very capable warriors with the need arises,:: Skyfire assured him. ::And I'm off. Caurun's coming in.::

::Glad to hear it,:: Prowl nodded, watching the shuttle take off as Caurun's meteor-like ship came in for a landing, sending a brief message to Noitefel to let him know he was handling the greeting before he went over to meet them.

The first one to step outside was a mech his own height and of similar build with dusty rose paintjob, Jazz's infectious smile and bright blue optics so full of life it was difficult to believe he'd been dead for over nine ganon and was only a few days into his second chance.

"Welcome to Earth, Windsong," Prowl greeted him with an offer of a handshake that was easily taken. The handshake was firm, sure of itself.

"Thank you, Prowl," Windsong's melodic voice said as others began to pile out, the two Seekers visibly grateful to get out of the cramped confines of the small ship. "We are very grateful for the rescue."

"And we're grateful for your help," Prowl said sincerely, stepping back to give more space for the others. "You arrived just in time for the rescue mission, things aren't usually this insane around here," he said by way of apology.

"We heard bits," one of the two Seekers, her paint an elegant design of primary blue and gold with red highlights. "We are _very_ ready to stretch our wings in a good fight."

"Skysong?" Prowl asked, waiting for a nod of confirmation. "I'm afraid that you won't be heading out just yet. Allow me to explain," he said, raising a hand to stall the objection he was sure would be coming from more than just them. "Right now, we have an assault on the Nemesis with most of our forces and two Gestalts. We also have the rescue mission going on at the actual target location. Either mission could go badly, or they could both go off without any trouble. I need reserves available to help with either one, depending on what happens."

He allowed himself a small moment of relief when both Seekers, the ones who seemed to have the most objection, appeared to accept his logic quickly.

"And a few bots to guard the base while the army is gone," the other Seeker femme, painted with a fire-themed pattern of gold, blue-white and red on a black base, spoke up. "I'm Stardancer," she offered a firm handshake to the SIC. "Who will we be answering to while the mission is on?"

"Blaster," Prowl said, nodding towards the bright orange mech who was helping with the loading. "He's not happy about staying behind, or being in command, so expect him to be on edge. He's not used to it, but he's quite capable. I _expect_ that we'll be calling you in for air support, if anything, but hopefully you'll just be getting a call telling you to prep the med bay for incoming instead of anything else."

"Understood," Stardancer inclined her head politely to him. "We will be ready. Skysong and I are both competent field medics," she added. "We can handle low and medium damage so the real medics can focus on critical injuries."

"Excellent," Prowl didn't even hesitate to take their offer. "Report to Ratchet," he pointed the white and red mech out.

"Will do," Skysong grinned in delight at having something useful to do soon and led her bonded towards the CMO and medic with the excitable grace of a warrior-Seeker.

"Commander," Crashcourse, a giant of a dusty rose painted mech with much the same manner as Skjöldur, got his attention. "May we go?" he motioned towards Noitefel.

"Certainly," Prowl nodded slightly. "Dismissed," he said politely, prompting the three Guard to make a bee-line for their Captain, and left him with the other five. He could already tell that the two frontliners remembered him from their expressions, and his news that they'd miss out on the fight went down even less well. They'd bear as much watching as Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. As he expected, the Intel officer, Nightstalker, was taking the order to remain behind much better.

"So, besides waiting for a call we hope won't come, is there anything we should be doing?" Nightstalker asked politely.

"Catch up on what's happened while you're out," he said seriously. "You've all been set up with basic security clearance and a data package that will fill you in," he explained.

The Seekers and Intel all nodded, liking the idea. Both frontliners looked rebellious but not enough to contest it yet.

"Caurun gave us all a map of the Ark and immediate area, so we just need to know where to go," Nightstalker offered to let him get back to work as quickly as possible. "Unless you want help with supplies."

"You're welcome to help, but first, your quarters will be here," he said, bringing up a map and indicating their rooms.

"Just point me at what needs doing," Nightstalker said with an eager hint in his voice.

"Agreed," Skysong nodded. "We're good with getting our hands dirty."

"If it means I don't have to sit for a few hours, count me in," Rollover grumbled.

"Ditto, spoilsport," Tailgater gave Prowl a less than happy look.

"If things don't go right, you'll have more than enough action," Prowl told them bluntly, knowing there wasn't time to work on instilling discipline in them now.

* * *

"Get your filthy hands off me!" Starscream's indignant snarl echoed around the Nemesis' medical bay.

"He's in rare form," Skywarp chuckled darkly as they watched their trine leader verbally abuse the Constructicon from near the door.

"All back to normal," Thundercracker nodded in a relieved agreement.

The pair listened to their leader and medic snarl at each other for a moment longer before the klaxon blared.

"Incoming Autobot force," Dirge's voice echoed over the ship-wide speakers. "All Decepticons to battle stations."

"Looks like it's time to prove whether or not he's back up to snuff!" Skywarp grinned. "Idiots must think we've got Prime here!"

"Who cares?" Starscream was on them before they'd even managed to turn around and didn't slow down for them. "We have Autobots to crush!"

"Yap, he's back to normal," Skywarp laughed eagerly. "Wonder how many of'm are coming to get slagged?"

As they came out of the Nemesis and hit the sky, they saw the force coming towards them.

"I'd say about three-quarters of the Autobots left," Thundercracker observed.

"Devastator and Menasor will join the battle shortly," Dirge radioed as he his the air with the rest of the Rainmakers. "We'll destroy them!"

"We don't need those brainless brutes!" Starscream howled in rage and kicked in his afterburners. "All Seekers, fall in behind me. Melt the field!"

Blasters and bombs hit the field hard, taking the Autobots by surprise with the sheer force of the attack before the Aerialbots and other fighters with them took to the sky, opening fire, scattering the five Trines and keeping them separated.

"Did anybot see their medic or SIC?" Thundercracker asked as he and Starscream tried to gang up on Silverbolt.

"I've got 'em - they're damned hard to hit though," Skywarp radioed back.

::Star - break off, please,:: Skyfire called in, approaching the battlefield.

::Now why would I do that?:: the acidic reply came back, though Starscream did turn his attention towards his old partner.

::Two gestalts and practically every other Autobot on Earth here - do you really think you can beat them?:: Skyfire offered. ::Doesn't _that_ mean anything?::

::We are _Decepticons_!:: Starscream raged and opened fire on his former partner. ::We do not lose. This is just fewer of your slime to clean up later.::

Skyfire twisted, dodging the shots easily.

::You're slow, Star - you're not at full ability. Please, let me get you away from here before they get you killed!::

::That's a better fate than what you offer,:: old pain, betrayal, rage, loss ... every emotion Starscream had felt since Skyfire had turned Autobot rumbled like a storm cloud behind the words and came with more weapons fire. ::If I'm slow enough for an Autobot to take me, then _do it_. He demanded, nearly howling. ::Shoot me. Kill me if you can.::

::You know I don't want to have to do that!:: Skyfire countered, though he started trying to get around behind his old partner.

::As if you could,:: Starscream snarled, his focus completely on the large white shuttle with red trim and the deadly dance they were in. That Skyfire had spoken the truth only fueled his rage.

* * *

Prowl met up with Bumblebee outside the freshly-constructed Decepticon base to get the latest update on what was going on inside.

Around and behind them were Ratchet, Trailbreaker, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Hoist, Huffer, Noitefel, Windsong, Crashcourse and Nightstalker. The three Guard were actually earning odd looks from the Terror Twins for eagerness and the heavy artillery Noitefel and Crashcourse were packing. Yet it was Nightstalker, only slightly taller than Prowl and build on a femme's frame despite being a mech, that had everyone present on edge. The matte-finish urban camouflage painted Intel officer looked much like his trainer, and carried an even worse reputation for not leaving anything alive in his wake.

"Remember," Ratchet said to all of them, "we're trying to get our people and get out as quickly as possible. We're not trying to do damage here - that's the other team's job."

"While Ratchet gives the 'don't kill anybody you don't have to' speech, why don't you fill me in on what's happened?" Prowl asked Bumblebee. "What's going on in there?"

"Whiplash found them," the yellow scout reported, his voice carrying the full weight of his relief. "As far as he can tell, they're all in good shape, just hooked into a big computer that Soundwave and Wingspan are ... were playing mother-hen to. He thinks it's a VR system they're inside. They IDed Triggerhappy, Quake, Runamuck, Ruckus and Reflector inside. I think it's the Windcrest Trine, but they buzzed by pretty fast a joor ago. If Whiplash lives up to his own standard, none of them will be on line when we get in."

"Get your tailpipes in here already!" Whiplash suddenly commed them on a secured frequency. "We've got fifteen Cons in various states of not able to fight and six Autobots in need of medical attention _right now_."

"Nightstalker, you're on point. Guard, take the lead, Ratchet, behind them. Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Nightshade, guard the rear," Prowl announced as he fell into place next to Ratchet with Bumblebee and Trailbreaker, his weapons ready. "Huffer, Hoist, prepare for hot evac when we get them out."

"Front door is open, security net down," Mirage's distinctively cultured voice spoke up over the comm next.

As they moved, Crashcourse in the lead of the main group, Noitefel and Windsong right behind him, Prowl got his first good look at the team in action. They moved smoothly, not a sound or obvious signal between them as they advanced at very close to a full run, weapons ready and bodies tensed for surprises. He could easily see that they had spent countless vorn training and in the field together, working to move with one mind.

Prowl's optics were sharp and ready for any attack, his cannons pivoting as they approached every corner. Every piece of intelligence he received as they moved was processed quickly, analyzing it, making adjustments to the plan as they approached the lab. It was eerily still. The back of his processor once again wondered how Shockwave was still alive when Whiplash could take a Decepticon facility with at least fifteen Cons in it and subdue them all without raising a single alarm. All with just himself and two others.

There were faint moans, louder groans and occasional weak cussing in the Decepticon dialect up ahead.

"Ratchet," Whiplash looked openly relieved when he appeared at the door. "Tread Bolt took a hard hit, his wing's nearly gone. I stopped the major leaks and killed pain reception, but he needs far more than what I can do here."

"I've got him," Ratchet confirmed, moving to help Tread Bolt. "How are the others?" He asked as he did basic triage, privately impressed with the quality of care the Intel agent had provided.

"In medical stasis and at various stages of waking up," Whiplash reported. "No injuries my scans reported, but very low on energy. I'm not sure what to make of Ezara's condition," he motioned to the stasis chamber with it's still pool of glittering metal.

"You could have left some for us," Sunstreaker grumbled, glaring at the collection of stasis-cuffed Cons the Intel agents had gathered.

"I don't believe in leaving anyone to raise the alarm," Whiplash shrugged. "Why don't you two head up to the command room? It'd be good to know if the Windcrests return before they ask to come in."

"On it," Sideswipe confirmed, taking his twin and leading him out.

"Any idea what's happened to them while they were here?" Prowl asked Whiplash from the door, still looking for signs of any more 'Cons.

"According to Wingspan," he motioned to the stasis-locked avian Con. "The VR had them as human in the near future, and had aliens banned from the planet. The main thing I've learned so far is that I'm not the first to hack in. What the other one was doing is less certain."

"How long will it take to rig the base for detonation?" Prowl asked after a few moments to process. "I don't want the Cons to ever use it again."

"Depends on who I get," Whiplash grinned at him with an evil glint in his optics. "Under two breems with Mirage, 'Stalker, 'Fel and 'Song."

"They're yours, if you can talk the Guards into leaving their charges right now," Prowl nodded.

"How long without us?" Noitefel asked evenly.

"Four to five breems," he answered even as Mirage and Nightstalker took off to start his rounds of setting explosives beyond the distraction plan charges they had placed while securing the base.

"Take Windsong," he motioned the entertainer to go.

"Thanks," Whiplash nodded and handed off a fair chunk of the subspaced explosives to the Guard before they headed out to finish the job.

"Jazz's up," Trailbreaker said with evident relief.

"Whip?" Jazz mumbled weakly, trying to turn his head to look for him.

"He's finishing the job right now, but he's here," Prowl promised. "Are you all right?" he asked, kneeling next to him.

"We figure out a way to bring 'em back to life and this one tries to get himself killed," Ratchet grumbled to himself as finished the initial field repairs on Tread Bolt and turned to these coming out of Stasis.

"Wasn't trying to," the transparent Seeker objected weakly. "Hate gettin' hurt."

"Low'n energon, still dragin' mah processors outa the sim," Jazz smiled up at Ratchet with something bordering on his usual flair. He pushed himself to a sitting position to look around. "Be careful wi'Zara. Shz gonna be whacked."

"Drink," Ratchet shoved a cube into Jazz's hand before turning to Prime. "Now."

"You too," Noitefel pressed an energon cube into Skjöldur hands as she struggled to get up. As soon as she downed it, he offered her a heavy riffle and helped her to her feet.

"Prowl," Prime said after a few moments to process what was happening. "Be ready, you might have to restrain her when she comes around," he explained briefly, motioning towards Ezara's stasis chamber, filled with shimmering liquid metal rather than her form, before he was given a second energon cube by Ratchet. Prowl nodded slightly, switching his blaster to stun, not quite sure what was going on yet, only that it meant he might be in for a fight.

Whippoorwill was up next, eager for the energon Ratchet offered her, though she was weak enough to need his help to get the first half of it down.

"When you're all ready, I think we can release Ezara," Ratchet said after a few moments to check the stasis field for any differences. "I'm going to bring down some secondary systems first."

He didn't even notice the tarantula-sized dark purple spider crawl down from the ceiling and slip into the stasis chamber as it began the sequence to bring its contents on-line rapidly.

"Apparently something has other ideas," Jazz watched as he was handed his weapons by Whiplash as soon as the other Intel officer came back in.

The fluid nanite mass began to congeal, energy flickering around it before a moment before a long legged, long necked lizard like creature lifted itself from the chamber and toppled to the floor somewhat clumsily. It found its feet and stood, the slender, featureless head swiveled towards Jazz and emitted a series of clicks and metal-on-metal grating sounds.

"Understood," Jazz nodded, then turned to Prime. "The Toe'Emirc are unprepared to move. He'll move her body until one of them can take control."

"Who's he?" Optimus asked, eyeing the featureless nanite lizard that stood nearly hip-height to him with it's head fully raised.

"A Ky'Wren, a specialized Tezita SpecOp," Jazz explained. "We keepin' the prisoners?" he motioned to the rather impressive collection of Cons.

"Or kill'm clean?" Nightstalker asked as he pulled an energized blade from subspace and took a step towards Soundwave.

"Keeping them," Prime said firmly as he stood, effectively halting Nightshade's advance. "I'm afraid I don't know everybody's names, but I'll get to the introductions after we're back at the Ark. Where is everybody else?" He asked Prowl. "I need to get back up to speed."

"Providing a distraction by attacking Nemesis," he answered smoothly as they worked out who of the prisoners could walk themselves and who needed to be carried. Despite his injuries, Tread Bolt insisted he could walk, just not fly.

"We'll need Skyfire for transport," Jazz spoke up when they finally began to move again. "I think we can all roll home, but they can't."

"If he's got Starscream down, I'll be glad to call him over," Prowl nodded slightly. "Skywarp retrieved him four days ago."

Jazz groaned and looked at Ratchet. "Just how scrambled is he?"

"Badly," Ratchet explained. "I'd just finished disengaging his processor and Spark Chamber from the power systems for his weapons, but there's going to be a lot of mental damage still there. The problem is that there's no telling what _they_ did trying to 'fix' him," he muttered lowly.

Jazz shot a look at Whiplash and there was a barely perceptible flicker of tension between them before the older mech nodded.

"Go," Jazz's voice was tight.

Whiplash and Nightstalker all but bolted ahead, moving with a fluid grace few mechs outside the SpecOps attained.

"What just happened?" Prime asked Jazz, getting used to moving around as a bot as they worked their way towards the entrance with their prisoners.

"Whiplash and I worked out our rank, then they went to secure Starscream if Skyfire hasn't," Jazz summed it up quickly.

Prime nodded slightly, looking to Prowl even as he began to wonder at the changes Whiplash and Nightstalker brought in his TIC by being in the room. "I'm assuming you have others here to help move them."

"Huffer and Hoist are outside," Prowl confirmed, pausing to humor the two Guard in front as they checked the next corridor. "We can call Skyfire in from the battle. I was not expecting quite so many prisoners," he admitted.

The sound of running footsteps echoed up behind them, but no one had time to tense before Trailbreaker called up that it was just the twins.

"Whiplash and Nightstalker aren't much for leavin' witnesses," Jazz said cheerfully as they reached the entrance. "It's really only been six days?"

"You're entirely too cheerful about that," Prowl observed. "And yes - how long were you all in the simulator?"

"Most of a solar cycle," Jazz tried to put a more exact length to it and largely failed. "Nine or ten months."

"What all happened to you, at least in the short version? Or should I wait until a full debrief?" Prowl asked as they began loading the stasis-locked Decepticons in the trailer Huffer pulled around for them.

"We woke up human a few years in the future. Major events are few, but the big one is why we warned you about Ezara," he nodded towards the long-legged lizard-type creature that seemed to be supervising the prisoners. "She was well into a pregnancy when we woke up and hasn't had access to the calming affect of the others the entire time we were in there."

"And who knows how much of that is still going," Prowl sighed, air escaping through his vents. "Wonderful. Hopefully they'll be able to help her recover before her... friend... has to go again. I'm going to need to talk to him before then. Find out what the Pit he was doing there."

"That ah can tell ya," Jazz gave an easy laugh. "His job. Just like we have infiltrators, so do they. He'd be gatherin' info, and the past few days, trying to protect Ezara."

"Yes, but who _was_ he?" Prowl pointed out. "His cover. If he has anybody else in there. Things that, believe it or not, we _do_ need to know to make good plans that don't get the wrong mechs hurt or killed."

Jazz regarded the nanite form and cocked his head slightly. "Good luck there, Prowler. If you find out, you've managed to get intel ah can't."

"Have you tried talking to him for more than a few minutes?" Prowl pointed out. "He might be more willing to share information than Ezara - might actually have it."

"I haven't have any more contact than you," Jazz shrugged. "It's worth a try," he decided and walked over while the last of the prisoners, those who couldn't fit in the trailer Huffer was already hauling towards the Ark with the Twins and Trailbreaker and Bumblebee as escort.

He hadn't made it more than five steps when the featureless lizard morphed into the familiar features of Mitrix.

"Where is Starscream?" she demanded, her voice on edge and stressed.

"At the Nemesis," Prowl said. "They're bringing him back in as soon as possible," he added.

"I can call him back," she countered, not perfectly steady on her feet. "He must not be damaged."

"Call him back? How?" Prowl asked her. "Skyfire tried talking him down, but he wouldn't respond. If you have some sort of code we can transmit, I'll send it along to him - it'll be there before you are."

"I didn't have much time to install it; he's very complex. I have to give the command. It's tied to my voice and form," she shivered her entire form, settled and launched upwards, transforming into Ezara's jet form within a span of the ground. ::We'll meet you at the Ark,:: she radioed back, already barely visible in the sky by the time Skjöldur and Whippoorwill were airborne and after her at full speed.

::Skyfire,:: Prowl sent out quickly. ::Mitrix is on the way with shutdown commands for Starscream. Be ready to provide air cover for them both - no telling if she's in fighting shape yet, but I doubt she's at full capability. Same with Skjöldur and Whippoorwill when they arrive. They're both shaky. Until she's there, prevent him from being harmed.::

::Rodger,:: the shuttle responded. ::Everybody else out okay?::

::Affirmative, with prisoners. We could use a pick-up when you have Mitrix and Starscream back at the Ark.::

::Understood,:: Skyfire responded, his attention split between Starscream, the rest of the battle and the approaching Tezita. ::She's on radar now ... and the Cons just noticed her.::

Mitrix blasted by Skyfire, nearly clipped Starscream's wing as she buzzed him to get his full attention.

"Starscream. Ko't!" She called out in a strong, commanding voice. "Follow."

The effect on the sleek white and red Seeker was instantaneous. He broke away from his pursuit of Skyfire and powered his engines up to follow her almost strait into the stratosphere. It could have been a pursuit, until he went past strike range and settled his wing just behind hers.

"Good Seeker," she cooed her approval and swung around, heading down to the battle with Starscream still tight on her wing. ::Megatron!:: her radio-backed demand halted a good half of the fighting that was already winding down with the Autobots beginning to retreat, their job done.

::I'm not sure how you convinced him to follow you, but you won't keep him for long!:: Megatron responded bluntly as they swept close.

::Tell him, my pretty Star,:: she ordered calmly as they swung around to make another wide, slow pass.

::Core programming edit,:: the Seeker said, his voice lower and calmer than it had been in ten ganon, possibly far longer. It was almost sleepy in quality. ::I will obey her commands. I will return to her.::

Megatron didn't bother to respond - he simply raised his arm, his cannon glowing as he prepared a blast. His optics zoomed in as the rest of the Decepticons moved to block the Autobots who saw what he was trying to do.

::Star, to the Ark,:: Mitrix ordered calmly. ::All speed.::

Without hesitation, Starscream turned away, but not in time to escape before Megatron opened fire, a massive bolt of energy lancing through the sky at Mitrix and Starscream both. The only thing that stopped it from catching them was when Skyfire's engines flared, his angled body taking the blast. One of his wings was nearly disintegrated, his body spinning from the impact, but his energy-resistant surface deflected the blast enough to miss its intended targets.

"Bloody idiot Autobot," Mitrix growled, diving for the out of control shuttle while Starscream engaged his afterburners and disappeared inland.

Megatron focused on aiming at Mitrix, her path making no effort to evade, when something big and light colored hit him from behind at high speed. He tumbled from the impact, wondering what Ramjet was thinking, before he realized that it wasn't the insane Seeker.

"Slag it!" He snarled, transforming mid-tumble to let Skjoldur's massive frame continue above him, changing back as soon as he was able and trying to line up a shot even as memories of just how resistant she was came to mind. It was a rare bot who could take a full power blast square on, then calmly shoot back.

She was irritatingly maneuverable too, for such a heavily armored alt. By the time he targeted in her massive nose cannon was lined up on him and she opened fire.

Megatron's shot took out her shells, and he quickly moved to the side.

"Constructicons!" He bellowed. "Form Devastator!"

He knew she wouldn't be able to handle that sort of firepower - particularly not with Menasor. The Stunticons were probably ready to combine already, eager to let their full destructive potential loose.

He wasn't prepared to see her turn tail and fly off before Devastator could even form.

With both Decepticon gestalts formed on the field, Superion and Defensor were quick to form and cover the Autobot retreat.

Meanwhile, Mitrix was chasing Skyfire towards the ground. She got close enough to get a brief grip on him, slowing his descent - but it was too late to stop anything. He crashed hard, leaving a trail of smashed trees around the trench he dug up hitting in his shuttle form.

::Can't transform,:: he told her, his voice pained. ::Is Star safe?::

::He can dodge, you know,:: she chided him even as she landed on an undamaged part of his fuselage. ::Yes, he's safe. Headed for the Ark and well gone. Focus on something other than the pain,:: she instructed as he felt a strange warmth along his damaged circuits.

"He can, but didn't know if he knew he had to," Sky pointed out, focusing on the crash and analyzing it, something he'd done several times before. It wasn't the first time he'd ended up nose-first in the sod, just one of the first he'd been so badly damaged on the way there. "Those codes - are they a permanent part of him now?"

"Until his memory is wiped. I'll take it out then," she told him as she molded her nanites around the damage, filling in missing structures and shorting out the pain signals at their source. "Try now."

It clearly took some effort, and a few false-starts, but eventually he was able to change back. It actually didn't look like the damage was too severe, once he was changed back - the loss of the wing and attached components weren't major parts of his humanoid form. They were just parts that he needed to be able to move properly when he was shifting.

"Walking's going to be interesting, until I get back for repairs, but I should be all right," he said, favoring his mostly undamaged side.

~Transform and fly,~ Mitrix encouraged him. ~The repairs are strong enough and I'd like to get back to my subject before he gets too nervous or an Autobot shoots him.~

"Me too," Skyfire agreed, getting airborne before he transformed, leaving the last of the battle behind. "Are these a part of you?" He asked her as they started to fly back and realized that Whippoorwill and Skjöldur were right behind him.

~Yes. It's the fastest field repair possible. Nanites do anything I instruct them to, as long as I know how to form it.~

~I'll get them back to you as soon as I can.~ ::How are all of you holding up?:: He asked, getting into formation.

::A bit off balance, but intact,:: Whippoorwill responded. ::Have you decided whether to bond with Starscream again, before he's woken up?::

::At this point, I'm still not sure,:: he admitted. ::You know how big that could be.::

::Honestly, I don't,:: she said gently. ::It's not something that crossed my processors when I was free, and Guard can't.::

::She was talking about bonding with Starscream after a total reset,:: Skyfire said, his flight wavering a bit as the surprise hit him before he realized that Whippoorwill probably didn't realize they were talking about bonding without Starscream's consent. ::Without his being able to agree to it beforehand.::

He could feel Mitrix wanting to say something, but she held back for now.

::I thought he was only going to be wiped to just after you stasis-locked,:: Whippoorwill asked, her tone uncertain. ::To when you were still bonded from before.::

::I know, it just still feels... awkward, at least. Maybe over time I'll come to see it that way.::

::Is it because he hurt you, left you, when you woke up?:: she asked, her tone mildly curious.

::Part of it, perhaps,:: he admitted. ::I knew he had issues, but I never thought he'd go so completely over the deep end, and stay there so stubbornly.::

::Once he went through the Forge, it is my understanding he had little choice in staying, and even less in how far over the edge he fell,:: she tried to put it in a better light. ::It's probably more accurate to say he is damaged, and has been for a long time, than actually evil.::

::I know,:: Skyfire agreed. ::I hope the others can see that too. But they're the ones with nine ganon of fighting him, not me. Some days I almost wish they _hadn't_ found me.::

::If they hadn't, Star would have been torn into little pieces by now,:: she reminded him. ::It's your knowledge of him before the Forge that convinced Ezara to have him fixed instead of destroyed.::

::There is that,:: he agreed as they approached the Ark. ::Ratchet's probably going to skin all three of us for my flying back,:: he chuckled ruefully, though most of his attention was on the agitated form of Starscream outside the entrance. Next to him stood Wheeljack, who seemed to be guarding him more from those inside than outside. The two Seeker femmes just in the entrance's shadow looked more like executioners than guards.

::Not with how close the Cons were,:: Skjöldur spoke simply.

::You'd have been captured if you'd tried to walk,:: Whippoorwill back her up.

~You can blame me,~ Mitrix offered, though there was amusement there too. ~You had a very competent healer and an engineer telling you to fly.~

Skyfire transformed mid-flight on the way down, landing near Starscream. It was obvious he wanted to go to him, but wasn't sure if he should with the openly hostile look his former partner was giving him.

"You arranged this, didn't you?" Starscream stalked three paces forward. "You talked her into scrambling my processors!"

~I'm leaving the pain inhibitors in place, but taking my nanites back,~ Mitrix warned him

. It was just enough warning to keep him from falling when he felt a large chunk of his right side slough off, and he backed away from Starscream slightly.

"I didn't even know she _had_ done it," he said honestly.

The Seeker's glowing red eyes narrowed dangerously. His fits clenched in impotent rage. It was easy to see what he _wanted_ to do, and that he was being inhibited. Which enraged him more was anyone's guess.

"Starscream," Mitrix spoke in the same tone as she had on the battlefield. It brought an almost instant change in him; emotions bled out and his frame relaxed, but his expression also went lax as most of his cognitive functions shut down. "Go with Wheeljack. I'll join you both when I've finished with the injured."

"Come on, Starscream," the inventor motioned him along and turned to the Ark's entrance, calmly sure that his charge would follow.

"I wish that wasn't necessary, but one does not kidnap a SIC and not expect him to be rescued," Mitrix apologized with her explanation. "Let's get you fixed up. Ratchet and First Aid will have plenty to do, light casualties or not."


	36. Tactical Wind Down

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: None  
_Rating_: PG-13  
_Codes_: Het  
Status: Finished  
_Summary_: Prowl and Noitefel relax in Prowl's quarters with a fine high-grade after a very successful mission.

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 36: Tactical Wind Down**

* * *

"I must admit, I am surprised you have free time, given the state of your unit," Prowl said as he unlocked a small hidden compartment in the wall of his quarters. It was far more than a tactician, even the head tactician, would have, but as the Autobot and mission SIC, his was the largest and most elaborate quarters outside of the Prime's.

"We do have longer shifts with half the team and twice the charges, but even Guard need to recharge," Noitefel smiled faintly at the half-sized deep blue cubes that Prowl brought out from his personal stash. "I have a couple joor before I need to shut down, and it is a pleasant change to spend them with one of my own kind."

"That it is," Prowl agreed as he handed one of the cubes over. "Sideswipe's homemade brew. Contraband, even though he's extremely good at it."

"Why contraband then?" Noitefel asked with just a hint of curiosity. "You will drink it."

"A technicality," he said as he sat down in a chair across from Noitefel. "He could have authorization within an orn if he asked for it. I believe he enjoys sneaking around too much to have it legitimate."

"I know the type," Noitefel held back a groan. "Whippoorwill and Windsong have the same glitch in their personality programming, though it is not nearly as strong as in Sideswipe or Tread Bolt. How is he doing?"

"Ratchet indicates he will make a full recovery, as will Skyfire, though it will be at least two decaorn before either are combat worthy again. It is against the odds that we only have the two severe injuries when we achieved all the mission goals. What is the process for selection of a Guard?"

"Most of us are pre-programmed," he said easily after a sip of the fine high grade. "As I said before, it is unnatural to be this dedicated to one you are not spark-bound to. Those who are not pre-programmed have the code added to them before they are repainted and branded."

"Is it their choice?" Prowl asked.

"Always," he nodded. "The coding only allows for the type of loyalty we exhibit and makes one pre-disposed to view our charge with it. It can be broken if the Guard fights it. It is a rare occurrence and it is not a subtle event to the rest of us. Mechs do leave the Guard, but never with Guard coding intact."

"Have you ever had to do it yourself?" Prowl asked him curiously, with a sip of his own drink. "Try to overcome the programming, for whatever reason?"

"No," he shook his head, his voice not quite concealing how distressing he found that thought. "Why would I ever want to?"

"It would depend on the Prime you were guarding, really," Prowl admitted. "I imagine that Nova could have pushed the limits of just about anybody's loyalty, even the Guard's."

"According to Skjöldur, he was actually quite easy to deal with, at least compared to Sentinel. He understood our job, our purpose, and did not seem to have an issue with us doing it. The difficulties are in times like now, when there is a new Prime but the old Guard. It's rare for a Guard to serve under a second Prime for long. Part of what makes us effective is a core-deep understanding of our charge. Since the Matrix tends to choose a very different personality for the next Prime, a different Guard generally comes into play soon afterwards."

"So what happens after you retire?" Prowl asked him. "Ever think about having the opportunity?"

"Those of us sparked as Guards decommission ourselves and return to Primus," Noitefel said easily after sipping his high-grade. "Those like Whippoorwill and Windsong who joined the Guard sometimes return to a civilian life, but most choose to decommission as well."

"Is it normal for you to come back as Guards again later, or is this more of a major exception to the rule?" Prowl asked him easily. "And how have you been getting along with Optimus, since his return?"

"If we come back, it's not with any memories," he shook his head. "Primus gives us life for a purpose. When that purpose is served, we return to Him."

"Understood," Prowl nodded slightly. "Have you and Whippoorwill sorted things out yet?"

"Yes," Noitefel relaxed a bit more. "I retain the title, as I am assigned to Prime. By the time she returns to guarding Prime, I will have caught up to her knowledge."

"Makes sense - and you'll have an aide with an intimate understanding of one of our allies, always a good thing," Prowl smiled. "Speaking of whom, what do you think of Ezara?"

Noitefel didn't hold back the bemused chuckle. "She's a psychopath with a strong submissive trait and survival coding that seems to override everything else. Be very, very grateful to Starscream and Skywarp for delivering her to you in the state she was in. That personality in a Cybertronian would make a first-rate Decepticon. I'm still rather amazed Prime and Jazz can control her as well as they do. It is against every probability I calculated."

"She's also very respectful of - almost afraid of - Intel mechs," Prowl pointed out. "I think that's part of why she gets along with Jazz so well. She recognizes that, if he wanted to, he could offline her. Especially with that new toy she gave him on Cybertron."

He cocked his head slightly, processing that. "A fascinating type to be afraid of, though one I must say is well-warranted in my experience. Yet she does not display that fear. She seems very affectionate towards him."

"Oh, she is - and practically everybody else, when she's in the mood," Prowl chuckled. "Him in particular. But it's one of the reasons he can control her so well. It's one part affection, one part fear. Optimus is equal parts affection and respect."

"Is that normal for her species, to be so tactile?"

"I've got no idea," Prowl admitted. "Though I suspect that a large part of it has to do with her very ... primal nature. She's much like Ravage, deep down inside."

"Mmm, fascinating. It does explain some of her quirks though. An animal spark made to be that articulate and social is unlikely to completely stable," Noitefel said thoughtfully between sips of fine high grade. "What is the most effective response when she becomes too affectionate?"

"A polite but firm refusal is effective, though I according to Jazz she can reach a point where that doesn't suffice. If she does, I wouldn't try to fight her off - she's like the Twins, in that combat and foreplay are largely interchangeable and resistance only encourages violence in an already violent individual."

"Understood," Noitefel nodded. "I have enough passed-down memories of Nova Prime to recognize the mood. He was partial to berthmates who resisted, though he never actually crossed the line that I know of."

"I imagine it's similar," Prowl said. "Of course, from what I've picked up on, she's also partial to losing those sort of fights ... it's a strange combination," he said, shaking his head. "One I don't think I'll ever understand."

"There are some complexities that our kind were never intended to understand," Noitefel smiled fondly at the frustrations of others had in trying to explain the quirks of the naturally sparked to him over the metacycles. "Have you considered agreeing to her attentions for the opportunity to look at how her CPU works?"

"Not really," Prowl chuckled lowly. "Not after seeing her first celebration here, at any rate. I think Bumblebee was a little scrambled for the better part of a decaorn. Besides, that's more Jazz's style."

Noitefel quirked an eyeridge up. "What happened to him?"

"Exhaustion and sensation overload, I think," Prowl said. "He also made the mistake of basically getting in _well_ over his head - she's a demanding partner, by all accounts, and Bumblebee is less experienced than Perceptor."

"Good things to know," he turned it over his processors several times. "I didn't think to ask her, but how is Skjöldur doing? I doubt she has much experience either."

"She's also a femme - seems to be the one group of people that Ezara won't hit on," Prowl explained. "Seems odd, but there you have it. The Tezita seem to be much closer to a biological origin, so I suppose it makes some sense."

Noitefel hummed thoughtfully. "That would also explain why the VR pregnancy being terminated has her so off her processors. Bios tend to be abnormally attached to their offspring, given how few survive in the wild."

"Even so, I'm still surprised by how badly it's hit her," Prowl admitted. "It never really existed, and from the sound of it she was anything _but_ thrilled to be pregnant in the first place."

Noitefel gave him an understanding smile. "She seems to be the only one not surprised by her response. It's quite unsettling to see her now, after what Whippoorwill showed me she should be like. It is quite a striking difference."

"I just hope that it's passed by the time that her people arrive," Prowl admitted. "It could get very ugly if it hasn't."

"Agreed," he pursed his lips as the extremely unpleasant odds came to mind unbidden. "Though if it does, at least we will have time where there are only her close supporters here. There is a high probability that one of them knows how to fix her."

"Whoever she's supposed to bond with, if nothing else," Prowl nodded. "Or one of the other Toe'Emircs... I'm surprised they haven't just overridden her again, taken full control while she mends."

"It is odd," Noitefel agreed. "Particularly given Mitrix took over to bring Starscream and Skyfire here. Perhaps it has something to do with Ezara being unable to heal while dormant. Some traumas are like that."

"True," he agreed thoughtfully, sipping on his high grade and feeling more relaxed than he had since leaving Cybertron. "Whippoorwill is keeping you appraised of Ratchet's assessment of the situation?"

"Of course," he inclined his head slightly. "My charge is the Prime, but Ezara is under Guard protection, and thus my concern as well."

"Good," Prowl nodded. "Keep me appraised as well. The fewer who ask Ratchet, the better the information he will give."

"I will," Noitefel nodded in turn. "What are the better ways to wind down after shift here? Jazz was full of suggestions, but I'm not sure he grasps what we are."

"What sort of things did Jazz suggest?" Prowl chuckled. "The easiest options are target practice, 'getting out for a drive,' or running a tactical sim. Teletraan-1's pretty good, though it would be nice to try against each other some time," he offered.

"Music was his favorite," Noitefel returned the smile as he savored the last few sips of high grade. "While I admit he suggested a few that could qualify as relaxing, the majority were definitely not. Jazz, swing and big band may be pleasant, but they are not relaxing to me. He did suggest going driving, and hanging out in the common room. That seems a place to become keyed up for battle, not wind down for recharge."

"He's also one of the four most social mechs on the ship," Prowl pointed out with a slight smile. "Of course, if people learn you're talking to me so much, they'll assume that you're just going out on patrol when you're going on a drive too. Not that they're wrong, in my case, I just find it relaxing."

"That I can understand," Noitefel laughed easily. "Knowing the area is secure makes recharge much easier. Letting it settle in alone is that much better. Socializing does take an extra effort, though not so much with you."

"Thank you," Prowl chuckled. "It's a lot easier talking with you as well ... how long do you plan to be up yet, before recharge?"

He checked his internal chronometer. "One point zero three joor."

"Enough time for a quick game?" Prowl suggested. "Let each of us practice against an opponent besides the computer?"

"I believe that would be a pleasant way to spend the time," Noitefel agreed with a quiet eagerness. "3-board, Iacon rules?"

"Lucky we both trained there," Prowl chuckled, bringing up the holographic board. "Your move first," he offered, the two of them settling for the evening.


	37. How Babies are Made

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Jazz/Ezara  
_Rating_: R  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary:_

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 37: How Babies are Made**

* * *

Jazz whined needely and arched into the teasingly light touch that circled his headlights, then dipped down to slide under his bumper. With both of his wrists pinned over his head by Ezara's other hand, he returned the attention the only way he could; by hooking his leg over her hip and rubbing along her leg and aft. After so long living as human lovers, he absently wondered which of them it did more for.

He moaned shamelessly into her mouth when she leaned down to kiss him; anything to encourage her to push the sensations to the next level or to take this into her mind where they could play more familiar games. She didn't seem to be in any hurry though as her glossa invaded his mouth and explored every sensor in the space while her free hand worked his chassis.

Electric pleasure rushed from one edge of his sensor net to the other, swirling and dancing until he couldn't even think to hold back. His back arched off the berth, pressing his chassis against hers. His wordless scream was devoured by her mouth the same way the excess energy and heat his overload produced was devoured by her nanites.

Jazz collapsed back on the berth, cycling air fast as his processors struggled to come back on line.

"Mmm, I think you like," Ezara's voice cooed in his audio before kissing him gently and releasing his wrists.

"Oh yeah," he chuckled, still sated from her efforts, and slid his arms around her shoulders. "Mmm, so what gets you off?" he whispered into her hungry kiss. He felt her shudder above him and the soft, familiar whine of when her mind turned her on as much as anything he could do to her.

"Push your hands into me," she barely breathed, her body already trembling in anticipation.

Jazz took a moment as he claimed a long, passionate kiss to work out what she was asking for.

~Pull your hands forward,~ the desperate _want_ in her mind rang clearly across the touch-based connection and wiped away all hesitation as he brought his hands towards himself.

They passed through her body like it was wet sand. His fingers tingled, but the feedback from her pleasure made his head swim. He barely heard her cries, but the pleasure bordering on agony was sharp and clear in it as he slowly moved his hands around inside her body.

Her fingers dug into the cushioning of her berth with a scream of ecstasy when his finger brushed up against something solid inside her.

Solid?

He twisted his hand around, seeking a better contact with the object and found it a few inches from where he'd touched it before. Focusing his mind away from Ezara's reactions unless they strayed into pain or words, Jazz slid his fingers around the object, mapping the slender, almost pedal-like shape. It pulsed with energy against his fingers, much like a spark chamber.

His optics flashed brightly as the thought struck.

He was handling her spark chamber?

And she was allowing it, encouraging him even.

A second object bumped up against the back of his hand and he slipped his fingers around it. Ezara was trembling uncontrollably above him as the two objects found each other and slid into place, linking together.

The pulse of energy was now stronger. It was definitely a spark chamber. Or part of one.

More objects brushed up against his fingers as the chamber took shape into the familiar sphere, then settled into his curled fingers.

Ezara was panting above him, her optics unnaturally bright as she bent down to kiss him before letting her form go. With no warning as much of her as could seeped into his body, the rest pooled around him, encasing him.

All too late he realized where this was going, but there was nothing he could do to stop it before he off-lined from shock.

* * *

"What the _Pit_ is wrong with her?" a truly irate voice raged above him, though it sounded muffled.

His optics were on, why couldn't he see anything?

"Nothing is wrong," Prime's voice, low, calming and sure, tried to sooth the other. "This is Tezita interfacing at it's most intimate."

Jazz tried moving, only to find that he was still caught inside of Ezara's body. She wasn't solid, but it was still like wet sand, and he didn't have much strength.

"Can you hear me?" He asked roughly, hoping he was loud enough to be heard outside, the way he could hear them.

"We can hear you, kid," Ratchet grumbled along with the sound of movement above. "Just relax while I move her. Unless you can wake her up?"

"I'll try getting her up first, she'll respond better to that. Sparks shorted out?" Jazz guessed, as he tried sending a gentle message to rouse Ezara.

"Something like that," Ratchet's voice was tight enough to make Jazz wince. "Whatever you did, _don't do it again_!"

Jazz wasn't that surprised when Singer responded to his mental nudge instead of Ezara, but either way the nanites quickly coalesced into a body and rolled to the side.

"It'd be good not to move for several joor," Singer advised him. "They'll be working out of your body for a time yet."

"The nanites, or the others?" He asked her carefully, holding very still. "And don't worry, I'm not planning on it again. Answers the question about Cybertronian/Tezita spark compatibility though - no way in the Pit."

Singer laughed, a soft light sound. "Nanites. We'd normally leave them there, but you shouldn't have that many in you. Given we're both alive, I wouldn't say it's that incompatible, though I do agree that it is risky." She rolled to her side. "You don't need to freeze, just don't get off the berth."

"I wanted to be sure I didn't have any of the other sparks in there yet first," Jazz pointed out.

"What _did_ happen?" Ratchet demanded even as he began to shoo the others out of the room.

"I wasn't paying attention for the most part," Singer admitted. "Judging from what I did witness, she lost control during interfacing and Jazz isn't strong enough to stop her."

"Didn't know I'd have to," Jazz admitted. "A little distracted, and everything happened in a few nanoklicks once it started going strange."

"Or going normal, for us," Singer added as a small ball of nanites formed near Jazz's shoulder and rolled over to be absorbed. "At least for modern Tezita. It means she's thinking of you less as an alien and more as an equal she's very fond of."

"Well, that's good news, at least," he observed. "Is Ezara still recovering?"

"Not if it means that things like this will be happening more often," Ratchet groused.

"It won't, Ratchet," Jazz promised.

"We'll keep a closer eye on things as well," Singer promised. "Ezara is still very young, and right now, she's under a great deal of stress. It has made her more unpredictable than usual."

"So, what _did_ happen?" He asked Ratchet. "And how long will you be hovering over me?"

The CMO regarded the pair in the berth with irritation as he considered both questions. "Singer. It is normal for a spark to be weaker afterward this form of interfacing?"

"It is rare, but it is a known phenomenon," she said thoughtfully. "Given the circumstances and Ezara's state, I'm not completely surprised it happened. If he does not begin to recover on his own within the next three decaorn, I will fix it."

"Ratchet," Jazz said firmly. "You're still ducking around the question of _what happened_."

"I don't know," the medic grated out. "You both overloaded, hard. You both off-lined from it. Singer there," he motioned to the Tezita, "won't let Ezara out for some reason."

"She's hysterical," she shrugged. "She'll calm down soon."

"And your spark is weaker, presumably from whatever happened in part one and two."

"Does she realize that she hasn't harmed me permanently?" Jazz asked Singer, focusing on the issue that seemed to be the obvious priority.

"Now she does," Singer assured him. "She's young and overly excitable, nothing more. It really would be best to rest for a while. You need the recharge, she needs time to settle down and the nanites need time to come back."

"Makes sense to me. Light duty until you're satisfied I'm recovering?" He asked, looking over at Ratchet.

The medic grunted in satisfaction and nodded. "Just try not to do that again."

"I'll be on guard for it now," Singer promised before he left, closing and locking the door behind him.

"I do apologize for this," Singer turned her attention to Jazz as she absorbed another small puddle of nanites that had seeped from his frame. "I would have stopped her, but she never formed intent. I didn't see this coming until it was too late."

"I understand," Jazz nodded. "Don't think she did either. Instinct kicked in. Make sure I get up in five joor, okay?" He settled in to rest. He set his internal alarm, but it never hurt to have a backup.

"We will," she promised and settled next to him, one arm draped over his midsection in the relaxed touch of a lover that simply wished physical contact in recharge.

* * *

Jazz on-lined late in the day cycle and disoriented by pain. Instinct broke his mind and imputes into small segments to analyze and place it. He quickly placed that the pain as not his own, but from the femme twitching erratically next to him.

::Ratchet, Ezara seems to be having some sort of problem,:: he transmitted, not sure yet where the medic was. He rolled to his side and gathered her in his arms as his optics flared to life. Even without the sensation through their contact, he could see the pain in her features.

~Shu, relax,~ he felt Singer's mind focused on Ezara even as it purposefully reached him as well.

~Jazz, call Caurun. Have him bring a small stasis jar from his ship,~ Mitrix added as the pain subsided. ~Everything will be fine.~

::Caurun,:: Jazz obeyed quickly.

::Mmph?:: his half-asleep voice responded. ::What?:: he asked more clearly.

::Mitrix says to bring a small stasis jar from your ship to my quarters right away,:: Jazz replied.

::Will do,:: Caurun sounded fully awake now and moving.

::What now?:: Ratchet demanded over the comm a moment later.

~She's trying to not give birth,~ Mitrix gave Jazz the answer. ~It will be fine.~

::Apparently she's trying to hold onto some spark-nodules until we can get a stasis jar or a body for them,:: he told Ratchet. ::Tezita pregnancy, I guess.::

::WHAT?:: the medic roared, nearly shorting out Jazz's comm receiver. ::I'm coming.::

::Caurun, get that jar here _before_ Ratchet blows a circuit,:: Jazz sent out quickly.

::I'm moving as fast as I can, and so's my ship,:: he promised.

The door slid open to Ratchet's medical override and he stormed in, optics glaring as he took in the scene. Ezara sitting upright on the berth, her back against the wall, clutching her lower chest and abdomen and shaking in pain he could see from where he stood. Jazz was half sitting in front of her, not sure what to do other than follow instructions.

"How long has she been in pain?" Ratchet demanded as he moved forward.

::Less than half a breem,:: Mitrix answered calmly. ::We can handle this. Singer and I are both mothers several times over, and I have long since lost track of how many I have overseen.::

"Fine - then bring me up to speed on what's going on," he told them bluntly. "You might be competent for this, but I should know what's happening."

~Ezara, don't fade out on me now,~ Mitrix's tone tuned sharp and commanding when Ezara's form began to waver and liquefy. ::The new spark is stable and in it's casing. It has to be put into a nanite pool or into stasis to survive once it's left her body. We could use part of her body, but under current conditions she can't. She has to hold it inside where it can feed off her systems until Caurun gets here with the stasis jar.::

"Besides energy, what does it require?" Ratchet asked, his mind running through the various emergency systems he had available.

::Once it breaks from her systems, it will need a minimum of three hundred pounds of clean nanite and a military Tezita to bond with until it is mature.:: she answered.

"Is there any way to keep it alive until the stasis jar is here?" Ratchet rephrased the argument. "Just the spark chamber."

::We have time,:: Mitrix insisted. ::Several joor if need be. I can make this work even without the jar. It would simply be better for everyone if it is not given form until others arrive.::

"Thank I'ent'ae," Caurun's voice was of pure relief when he spotted Ratchet before the door had even opened completely. He shoved a stasis jar the size of two fists into the medic's hand and bolted.

::Bring it over here,:: Mitrix ordered with the calm urgency of an experienced medic, a tone that Ratchet responded to by reflex. ::Open it,:: she instructed as Ezara brought cupped hands to her lower chest. A ball of nanites less than half the size of her fist tumbled out of her shimmering frame and were just as quickly dropped into the jar. ::Close it.::

"I take it this is why you two shorted out each other's sparks before," Ratchet guessed, closing the jar. "Were you planning on it?"

"I wasn't," Jazz said, shaking his head. "She going to be okay?"

"I'll be fine," Ezara spoke in her own defense. Though she was still trembling slightly and her optics were locked on the stasis jar in Ratchet's hands, she sounded much more coherent than she should be. "And no, I wasn't planning it. I thought I'd gotten past the _needing_ stage or I would have kept to myself a while longer."

::Yes, she'll be fine, once she winds down,:: Mitrix added. ::Just don't open that jar until we have the materials and host for it.::

"Understood," Ratchet nodded. "I'll put it in a storage cell in med bay when I get there - it should stand up to just about anything that doesn't vaporize the lab."

"That will be good," Ezara said, sounding much like her normal self, though she was rather pointedly avoided looking at Jazz. "Locked too? Keep anybody but Intel out. They'd never risk part of Jazz's spark out of curiosity."

"They also know better than to try and get into my storage cabinets," Ratchet said bluntly. "It's a very well-known rule."

"Whiplash or I might, but even then, we know we're taking our lives in our hands," Jazz joked. "Ratchet does _not_ like people poking in his facilities."

"I may be a medic, but part of that involves keeping people's secrets," the ambulance said simply. "Patient confidentiality is second only to preserving life in our oaths."

Ezara nodded in acceptance, though Ratchet wouldn't be surprised if she pressed for more security later. Right now he knew she had one pit of a conversation to have with Jazz.

"Then I'll leave you two to work out just what the last orn means to you. You're both off the duty roster until I say so. I expect to see you both in my bay before you even _try_ to do any work, or interface."

"Yes sir," Jazz nodded easily, knowing better than to argue with Ratchet when he was in this sort of mood.

"Yes sir," Ezara agreed, watching as the medic left before turning her optics to Jazz. She curled her legs to her chest and settled her arms around them in a good impression of a prisoner trying to be as small a target as possible. She didn't break optic contact though.

Jazz watched her, and despite everything going through his processors, he held his vocalizer still, wanting to see how she was going to approach it. Somewhere in the back of his CPU, he was glad she'd had this break with him. He'd endured and dolled out so much worse in his life it wouldn't leave nearly the scars it would for most. He didn't dare contemplate what it would have done to Optimus to be taken like that, much less the reaction the Twins or Silverbolt may have had.

"There aren't even the words in my language to cover this," she eventually said, her voice shaking lightly. "Not when it's unintentional on both sides."

"The closest we've got is an accidental spark bond, but that doesn't even really cover it," Jazz agreed. "For what it's worth, I know you didn't intend to do anything. If I'd known it was possible, I'd have been more careful after what happened in the sim."

"I thought I was being careful," she murmured and reached out tentatively for his hand. "It's why I kept clear of everyone, especially you and Prime, for so long. I thought the drive had settled back to normal. I know the word if I'd intended to force you. I give you my word I didn't intend to force anything."

"I know, Ezara," he said, taking her hand lightly and welcoming her into his arms as she curled forward to snuggle against him, still in somewhat of a state of shock. "It'll probably sink in more over the next decaorn or two, but I know you didn't _mean_ to do this. Besides... I don't know that I'd have said 'no' if you had planned on it and asked, for sure."

That brought her face up sharply, shock written clearly in every line of her features and frame. When that settled, she shifted to touch their foreheads together, stopping a few inches short to make it his choice for this most intimate of Cybertronian displays of affection.

"Maybe, if we're still close in a few vorn, we can try it the way it's meant to be done," she murmured softly when he tipped his head forward to complete the contact. "Assuming you recover and it grows up strong." She shifted to kiss him lightly. "Do Cybertronians have any sense of family, of heritage from one bot to another?"

"Something of one," he said, returning the kiss gently. "From creator to progeny, mostly, but even that's fairly loose... more one of patronage, from your standards, I suppose."

She nodded against his shoulder and seemed to relax a bit more. "We tend to be much more involved, though it's less to do with who created the youngling than who they bond with to raise them. Tezita aren't really meant to come on line and immediately fend for themselves, though we can and I did. Most spend about four and a half metacycles, ten wraa, with an adult before maturing."

"How constantly?" Jazz asked, thinking it over. "And how long can 'e stay in that jar?"

"With military, younglings are carried around as part of their caretaker's body," she had an odd smile on her face, part wistful, part weirded out. "If you see anybody with a lizard-head and neck poking out next to their head, it's probably a caretaker. For how long, it's a stasis jar. It should be safe almost indefinitely."

"Wasn't sure if there was some sort of shelf-life, between Tezita tech and everything else," Jazz explained easily. "So this can all wait until _after_ things have settled out with the war."

"Yes, though that's up to Lyzen as Si'Mir," she murmured, already drifting into pre-recharge against him. "She might consult Prime about it, but probably not."

"Consult him about what?" Jazz asked her, wondering what would need consulting about.

"Timing, if he wants to stake a claim on the spark, if it'll be an educational event for a few medics and officers or whatever else she might think it could be useful or contentious about."

"So the commanders have final say over what happens with the offspring, not the parents?" He asked her. He wasn't that surprised, really, not considering the Tezita focus on the military.

It did surprise him a little when she had to think about the answer.

"Lyzen, really," she decided. "She has final authority in all the breeding programs, whether she heads the project directly or not. Being unplanned and half Cybertronian of significant rank, Intel no less, she'll be more diplomatic than usual about it. Usually all these details are worked out before anything's attempted."

"Well, seeing as Prime _will_ actually care what we think about it - what's your preference for what happens?" He asked her seriously.

Ezara gave him a funny look and it sank in that she probably never really got asked what she wanted, at least not by anyone of rank any way. Not for anything that mattered in _life_ to Jazz's optic.

She was still for several breems, turning over the question and giving it, from his perspective, appropriate consideration.

"I trust Lyzen's judgment," she finally decided. "She's much better equipped to make these kinds of choices."

"So you're happy taking your emotions out of the situation?" He asked her, trying to clear up how much of it was actually her preferences, and how much of it was her reaction.

"It's not like I have _any_ chance to bond with it, even if I wasn't about to face the death-match of my life," she shifted to look at him. "Emotional connections don't happen as much more than an abstract until the newborn bonds with its caretaker. It's a strong Spark, with a very strong heritage. It will improve the Tezita race nearly as much as bringing natural flight back. My attachment right now is from my duty to my people, to keep them fast, strong and deadly. New blood's very good for that."

"Well, I'm glad you've got that sort of opinion of me," Jazz chuckled slightly, flattered. "You need to rest."

"You're smart, adaptable, think fast, strong willed, creative, high ranked..." she paused to kiss him gently and settled in to relax into recharge. "Not much not to like about what you can pass on."

He settled down alongside her, for now - he had to recharge a bit too, and it was interesting to consider. Hardly qualities to really look for in a 'mate,' but good for a breeding partner. Whether she'd thought about that consciously or not ... Pits, after the discussions in the sim, he was sure she had. Maybe not in these terms, but certainly considered them.

Just how many Cybertronians were breeding stock, in her eyes? And how many of them were anything more?

It was a question for later, but before any more of her kind arrived.


	38. Settling In

_Fandom_: Transformers G1  
_Pairing_: Prowl/Noitefel  
_Rating_: PG  
_Codes_: Het  
_Summary:_

* * *

**Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 38: Settling In**

* * *

Optimus looked up from the data files that Whippoorwill had given him on the remaining Cybertronians who were waiting for bodies in the Well. The hardest part of this was picking who would be the most useful - who would come out first. Especially now that he was running out of names he recognized from before. He looked over at Windsong, standing guard by his door, and spoke.

"What can you tell me about Blastfire, Freighter, and Arcweld?" He asked the most social of the Guards, hoping he'd know more about them than Whippoorwill had.

The mid-sized mech brightened instantly at the opportunity to talk. His body language relaxed into a much more pleasant eagerness and his face animated with delight.

"A great deal, Prime," he answered with his best entertainer's voice, and once again Optimus was reminded of the old type, the bard, rather than what the word meant now. "Blastfire's a demolitions expert and top-notch saboteur of buildings and bridges. If it sits still, she'll find it's weakest point on instinct and put just the right charge there. As a civilian she specialized in implosion demolition and improving the blast-resistance of buildings. She was an Autobot stationed out of Kalis for two and a half ganon before being captured in a raid. She credits her deactivation to Hotspike and Coldspike under Shockwave's orders."

"How was she about collateral damage when she was going after a Decepticon target?" Prime asked him. "She could be useful, but the humans are touchy about blowing up more than you mean to."

"She's a _civilian_ demolitions specialist," Windsong said firmly with extra emphasis on civilian. "Extremely proud of her zero collateral damage record. That can, and likely has, worked against her in the war, though you'll have no problems with her damaging what she shouldn't. Just be clear with her about what is and is not Con property. She'll assume anything she doesn't know is Con is to be spared, even if a Con is standing on it."

"I'm perfectly happy with that," Optimus chuckled lowly, making a note to put her near the top of the list for rebuilds along with most of the combat-built fliers. "And the humans will be as well, especially given her specialty. Our contacts are nervous about mechs who might be willing to take out slave labor along with a target."

"Understandable," Windsong nodded easily. "I believe you'll find she suits your desires perfectly. She is also very well suited to going back into civilian life quickly and smoothly, as well as assisting in the rebuilding efforts in a professional function."

"And helping us work with the humans," Prime nodded. "Especially with Cybertron so close by, it will be good to foster a sense that we're their allies with more than just the government ... so, Freighter and Arcweld?"

"Arcweld is a top-notch surgeon and doctor. He was classified as a field medic because he thought he'd do more good that way. Ratchet may have more of an opinion of him, but I wouldn't hesitate to put you under his care."

"I'll talk to Ratchet yet, but I can't ask for better than that," the larger mech nodded slightly and put Arcweld at the very top of the list. "It'll be good to have another dedicated medic available. Wheeljack has to spend too much time helping Ratchet after battles; he's better used elsewhere. Does he have any known work that Teletraan-1 would have access to?"

Windsong had to think about that for a time. "He mentioned being awarded the Medal of Healers for his work with a survivor when a twin dies. Most of what he talked about was somehow related to spark-twins or a surviving spark-bound partner. Most of it was beyond what I could understand, but his focus was related to sparks and bonding. He put a lot of his energy in our time in the Well to helping the dead twin or bonded mech deal with the separation until their other half arrived."

"Very important, these days," Prime nodded. "Though, thankfully, not as much as it used to be ... he might be able to help with Starscream and Skyfire as well. Anything else?"

"He's only been dead a ganon and a half." He shifted, a bit of unease entering his manner before he met Prime's optics. "I'm sure he visited the living as a ghost."

"That's... not entirely unheard of, but very strange," Prime murmured. "If he responds, we'll have to try and find out what was so strong for him."

Windsong nodded and relaxed a bit. "Freighter has a good spark, but for all his desire to help the war effort, I would not recommend bringing him back soon," Windsong said. "He's a strong willed, good sparked mech that is everything you can hope for in an Autobot _except_ he has no combat experience and little temperament for battle. Early in the war, he would have learned quickly and done well. At this stage experienced warriors and those with skills are much more valuable. He was a laborer killed in the Kaon revolt while trying to get word to us about it. He was in the Well before I was. He wants to help the war effort, to prove that not all Kaonians are Decepticon supporters. He will be a great asset when it comes time to rebuild. Until then, he has no skills to offer."

"He sounds like it," Optimus nodded. "Any other's you'd recommend putting in the front of the queue?" Optimus leaned back in his chair and watched his Guard think. Asking these open-ended questions told him so much about a bot. Their thought processes, their processor speed, their goals, hopes and fears. With those he knew he'd be spending an unprecedented amount of time with for the rest of his life, they were invaluable insights.

"At least two more Guard," he answered with the resolution of one who expected to be chastised.

"Do you feel they're necessary?" Optimus asked him easily. "So far, as far as I'm aware, there haven't been any lapses, and you all seem to be handling things well."

"Strictly necessary, no," Windsong admitted. "No more than air power being a priority is. We have not had any lapses, and it is unlikely to happen while the situation remains as it is," he said almost formally and with a well-suppressed touch of defensiveness. "It is, however, a significant strain on all of us to have twice the number to protect and less than half our team.

"In addition, you have had very little of the education you will need to do well as Prime in peacetime. If you intend to lead after the war, neither Noitefel nor myself should be on protection detail. Whippoorwill really shouldn't be either. While Noitefel is doing his best, he is not an aid de camp either. Because of the size of this group and the weak political ties of the war, he is managing. No peacetime Prime, and few in wartime, have done well without a strong aid to organize their time and keep check on the rest of the universe before they meet the Prime.

"You have done very well with what you have," Windsong said without a trace of patronization. "That does not mean you would not do much better with the proper skills at your disposal."

"Who would you recommend, then?" Prime asked him, setting Whippoorwill's list to the side. "And, just so I understand, why would you recommend removing yourself, Noitefel, and Whippoorwill from the protection detail?"

"I do not have names for you, only what to ask for from Primus," Windsong answered. "Noitefel is a political and campaign tactician, not a protector. His time and energy is best spend absorbing political and situational information to plan the best way to win the war and rebuild our world, and in this case, educating you in the skills you will soon need to lead in peacetime.

"Whippoorwill and I are both socializers. Our best use is to quietly mold other's minds towards supporting the Prime and his goals, and finding dissention within the population. She is also our Intel specialist. Every hour she spends on guard duty is time she can not devote to learning the secrets you will need to succeed, and time she can not spend cultivating the contacts that keep us ahead of trouble."

"Understood," Optimus nodded. "Then you'd suggest an additional two 'typical' Guards?"

"Yes, Prime," he inclined his head respectfully. "Specifically two shields. Heavy frames like Crashcourse and Skjöldur."

"How many Sparks are left waiting to come back, before we run out of them?" Optimus asked him.

"Assuming you only want the Autobots and neutrals, there are another hundred and two in the Well," he answered smoothly. "We have vetted them all. There are at least three times that many Decepticons."

"And no Guard sparks remaining ... beyond the two Guard, who would you recommend for being brought back online soon? I'd prefer to bring on mechs who are already prepared, if possible, now that we know they're there."

He watched as Windsong thought, ran over possibilities, and likely debated on whether to try to hand the question off to Noitefel as the unit tactician.

"The first thirty in the order; Arcweld, Sunsharp, Windsheer, Jackpot, Blastfire, Nitro, Chemfire, Stardust, Starcry, Starflair, Winterquick, Vibrance, Pantheon, Darkwit, Longstrike, Thunderblast, Skyquake, Stormwake, Lancer, Quill, Medstar, Softly, Hollowpoint, Quasar, Timerist, Sunsharp, Windstorm, Mindstrike, Archangel, and Seashark."

"Thank you," Optimus nodded. "How strong is the drive to get back out?"

"It varies, to a degree, Prime, but please realize that it takes a very intense _need_ to live to remain a spark for more than a vorn within the Well," he tried to explain something not even he had words for. "Most of those trying to come back have been dead for ganon. The only reason the Aerialbots were not filled with old sparks is that there were not five who could live as a gestalt. Megatron did receive old sparks for his gestalt. Cons are not nearly as fussy about how they live, just that they live."

"I understand," Optimus nodded. "That's why I'm asking. Would you think I was completely off-base if I told you that I consider this, in a way, a rescue mission?"

"No Prime," he smiled. "It is how we feel about it. The opening you gave with the two Seeker-frames was definitely a breakout."

"Then you understand why I want to get as many different Sparks out of the Well as I can," Optimus said, a smile of his own behind his battle mask. "The additional Guards may have to wait a little while - but at the rate that we can retrieve them now, particularly with Skyfire able to ship components on his own, it shouldn't be too long if we're lucky."

"I understand," Windsong said easily, his body language backing up that he felt what he was saying. "There is good reason I'm not a commander. It is ... unpleasant ... not to follow my first purpose, Prime. Given an opening, I will try to do what I was created to do."

"I understand," Optimus nodded. "As will I," he added. "Though I understand that makes things more difficult for the rest of you."

"We are at war," he gave Prime a small, rueful smile of understanding. "Even I understand that priorities can't always be what makes life easiest for a few."

"What did you mean, about doing what you were initially programmed to do?" Prime asked him, settling back in his seat.

Windsong gave him a charming smile and shifted his body language to something just on the polite side of seductive. It left Prime with no doubts this one could win over most mechs in a sparkbeat. Painted something other than the matte dusty rose of the Guard, he'd be stunning. "I was commissioned by Senator Vicrest as an entertainer to sway others to his desires, be it by music, talk or blackmail. My programmed loyalty and purpose meshed well with the Guard programming once Vicrest turned me over to Sentinel Prime."

"I imagine he wasn't expecting you to be converted to a Guard," he nodded slightly. "Do you plan on retiring after the War?"

"Decidedly not," Windsong seemed to find it amusing. "If I leave the Guard is entirely to you, Prime."

"I don't plan to change the roster too much," Prime promised him. "However, I will ask that you only take a shot if you think that you're more capable of it than I am, while you're on the protection detail. I'm capable of taking some fairly impressive hits without being seriously damaged, from most opponents, and I wouldn't want one of the Guard injured trying to take a shot that I could withstand."

"I will try to keep it in mind," Windsong promised. "I'm not keen on going back to Primus so soon after getting out, Prime."

"Thank you. Sometimes I think you're the only Guard who isn't," he admitted. "About what you said - I'd been under the impression that the Guard handled their own membership, independent of the Prime. Not quite accurate?"

Windsong looked thoughtful for a bit. "Primus grants the Guard life to protect the bearer of the Matrix. If a Guard is not capable of protecting a given Matrix-bearer because the bearer does not want them to, Primus will call them back and send one better suited to that bearer. That is why most of the Guard changes with each Prime. The Matrix chooses a very different mech each time, so those well-suited to protect and serve one do not do so well with the next."

"Just how does Primus call them back?" Optimus asked him seriously.

"I do not know, Prime," he answered quietly. "There are some things invited Guards don't know. Noitefel, Crashcourse or Skjöldur should be able to answer."

"Understood," he nodded. "I'll be talking to them later either way. Do you ever regret joining the Guard?"

"No," Windsong shook his head quickly. "Sentinel was a far better master than Vicrest. He willingly allowed me to indulge my talents, even when it was not to his direct benefit."

"I don't mind if you do either, as long as it doesn't interfere with anybody," Optimus told him. "I'm assuming you've already figured out the assorted bondings here."

"I believe so," he smiled warmly. "Prowl to his work, for now. Jazz and Blaster are spark-bound, as are Sunsteaker and Sideswipe, as twins and lovers. Neither pairing are exclusive. You and Elita-1. Stardancer and Skysong. Ratchet bonded to Wheeljack and with Ironhide, but it's not a triad.

"Hound and Mirage. Rollover and Tailgater. Ezara with Jazz and yourself, though both are expected to end. Ezara and Skywarp are likely to continue. Windfall is trying to get with Jazz again, but he's a little occupied at the moment. I believe those are all the serious pairings.

"Jazz, the Twins, Tracks, Nightstalker, Tread Bolt, Whippoorwill and I all have a reputation for playing around more than most. Skyfire is holding out hope for Starscream for now. Have we missed any, Prime?"

"I actually wasn't even aware of Hound and Mirage," Optimus said approvingly. "And I don't see Prowl's interests changing too quickly, but beyond that, I'd say you did quite well. I only ask that you don't interfere with them. I doubt you would, but it bears commenting on, especially with Ezara on-base."

"I only interfere when authorized to by you," he promised.

"Thank you," Optimus smiled behind his battle mask. "Do you think there are any particular prospects for Prowl?"

The look that flashed across Windsong's face was pure mischievous glee. "Noitefel is already courting him. I think they're a good match."

"Assuming it's not just professional interest on both sides," Optimus chuckled at the idea of anyone courting his SIC successfully, especially another tactician. "Judging by the dedication both have to their duties, they may not be seeking out anything more than mutual planning."

"It's possible," Windsong flashed a winning grin. "All four of us agree that Noitefel is more interested than that. Though if they get past the first stage within hundred vorn, it'll be a miracle. Tacticians are infamously slow about getting into a relationship, though when they do it is very rarely the wrong choice."

"I think you've just described how tacticians do everything," Optimus chuckled. "Well, I hope you're right - it would be good for both of them to have somebody they can relax with."

"Agreed, Prime," he laughed easily; a soft, musical sound that suited the singing voice of the Jazz-sized mech. "They are both wound quite tight on the best of days."

"Very true," he chuckled, standing from his seat. "I believe I'm going to go see how things are going elsewhere. Find out if there are any updates on the Decepticon activity."

Windsong nodded and shifted his stance, ready to follow his charge wherever Prime wanted to go.

"So, does anybody outside of the Guard know about Prowl and Noitefel possibly being interested?" Prime asked as he went to the door.

"Given how much Whippoorwill loves a betting pool, I expect the entire crew will know before decaorn's end," he chuckled lightly and fell into step easily with the much taller mech as they began their tour of the Ark.

"Just how much trouble does she end up creating, when left to her own devices?" Optimus asked him seriously. "Or does she keep it under control?"

"It depends on your definition of trouble," Windsong said with easy cheer. "Until we have a full team, she won't have enough time or energy to do much more than a few betting pools and sit in on any gambling already going on. She's still got a lot of catching up to do, just not as much as the three of us, and Ezara is not an easy charge, for all she's more accustomed to the situation than you are. As long as their are off-base outlets, an underworld or 'Cons, to suffer her attentions you'll hardly notice when she gets restless. Guard or not, she's a grifter at spark. She can get fidgety when she hasn't been able to work her skills for a while. It's true for most of us, really. Hers is just a talent that's best kept off base."

"How about the rest of them?" He asked Windsong easily. "Any other hobbies or talents I should know about?"

"Mine is making music and entertaining others. Give me an audience and I'm happy. Rather like Jazz, but without the prankster coding," he grinned up.

"Noitefel is a tactician, though Prowl seems to be his hobby now. Just keep the sparing ring supplied with combat drones or opponents and Crashcourse will be content. You've handled Sunstreaker and Sideswipe for more than long enough to have the care and handling of the under socialized, ill-tempered killing mech down pat.

"Skjöldur is an avid student of everything. She's been here long enough she's probably downloaded everything on this planet and anything Teletraan-1 has let her. She may be quiet and foreboding, but the processor behind those optics is top of the line."

"How dangerous would it be to pit the Twins and Crashcourse against each other? Not as a fight, but to keep each other busy?"

"In the sparing ring? They've already found each other," Windsong laughed in honest amusement. "You may see less trouble from the Twins for it, though I don't be sure yet. Skjöldur definitely enjoys sparing with them."

"Well, the Ark's still in one piece and Ratchet hasn't blown a circuit, so that answers my main two concerns," Optimus chuckled as they entered the control room. "Any activity to report?" He asked the mechs on duty.

"The Cons are laying low, Prime," Smokescreen reported professionally from his station at Teletraan-1. "The beating we gave them in the rescue mission seems to have them still licking their wounds. Ultra Magnus reported that Whiplash has arrived safely on Cybertron, along with the energon shipment we sent with Skyfire. There is increased activity there, but he has it under control."

"Good," Prime nodded. "How is progress going with Operation: Citadel?"

"Ultra Magnus reports that progress is ahead of schedule. He indicated that he should have a new schedule calculated within the orn now that his tactician is back," Smokescreen answered. "He did ask if we were going to increase the pace of Operation: WellSpark."

"Affirmative," Optimus nodded. "We want to get as many of them back out as we can as quickly as possible. We're already contacting some of the humans for help, where it's feasible."

"I will pass that along with the next sitrep, sir" Smokescreen acknowledged smartly.

Optimus nodded and turned to leave, Windsong a nearly silent, easy to forget shadow just behind him as he made his way to the common room. The sounds that first reached his ears were the familiar cadence of a betting pool getting stated in the general population.

True to form, Jazz's amused drawl was one of the voices in charge as the words became clear. He quickly identified Whippoorwill's energetic lilt as the other.

"I did warn you she'd have it common knowledge within the decaorn," Windsong all but giggled. "Now it's a matter of how long it'll take everyone else to believe that those two _have_ romantic programming."

"I'm sure," Optimus nodded before stepping into the common room and making his presence known to those there. "What's this all about?" He asked, even though he was sure Windsong was right. It was still a good idea to make sure they knew he was keeping an eye on things.

Whippoorwill looked up with a grin that was all innocent delight. "Good evening, Prime," she greeted him cheerfully. "Just a little betting pool for how long it'll take Prowl and Noitefel to 'face," she said easily, much to the distress of several bots around her.

"Which is between the two of them," Prime said firmly. "And should stay that way." All the same, he didn't come right out and tell them to stop... mostly because he knew it wouldn't do any good. "Get back to work," he told them all, knowing it wouldn't be long before they were back at it once he moved on.

Even though no one had actual _work_ to do, since they were all off shift, the gathering broke up quickly as Prime turned to leave.

"You do know that won't stop it, Prime?" Windsong asked quietly when they were out of audio range.

"Of course not," he acknowledged, shaking his head. "I still need to keep some appearance of maintaining discipline. If it bothers Prowl or Noitefel, they'll be much more effective at stopping it than I will."

"Very true," he nodded and relaxed as they made their way to the de-Forging workshop that had been carved out of the mountain surrounding the Ark by Mitrix's nanites. The sound of the two Tezita femmes talking rapid-fire in their own language reached them before anything else. For all he knew what the words were, he still had no clue what they were talking about - highly technical information that was beyond him, at any rate.

"How are things progressing?" He asked as he entered the lab with Windsong.

The pair paused, and he realized that Ratchet and Perceptor were in the room as well. Between them they had two Seekers laid out and in various states of dis-and-reassembly. The femmes were working on Starscream, with Skyfire alternating between trying to help and staying out of their way.

"Very well," Mitrix responded with a smile when she glanced over her shoulder at him. "Starscream was unstable before the Forge, but we should be able to bring him level again."

Even after this long, it was strange to see the long-dead pair walking around, knowing they'd usurped Ezara's body to do so.

"That's good to hear... how long do you believe it will take?" He asked them, glancing at Ratchet to see how he was doing. He still wasn't looking particularly thrilled with all of this, but now that they had better odds and intended subject survival, he was clearly more comfortable with the process and his involvement in it.

"Without interruption, I believe we're down to eight months," Mitrix said smoothly. "By the time we get through these, we'll likely have it down to a month, average. The learning phase is what takes the longest."

"Of course," he nodded. "Projected survival rates?"

"Sunstorm, 26.9912%. Starscream, 68.5319%, largely thanks to Skyfire's involvement. More baseline Seekers, 83.3958%," Mitrix responded with pride evident in her voice.

"Is Sunstorm's lower odds related to his inner radiation?" Prime asked them, glancing back as he realized Windsong wasn't there anymore; Noitefel had taken his place, and was much quieter generally. "Shift change?" He asked briefly.

"Yes, Prime," Noitefel inclined his head politely.

"Yes," Singer answered. "That and his _much_ less stable personality. He makes Starscream seem positively sane. There is only so much fixing we can do with that."

"Basically, the less there is to work with, the lower the odds," Wheeljack offered. "Harder to separate it all out. Probably going to be a fair number of 'Cons in that boat, but they'd be the ones who'd be trouble anyways."

"Yes," Mitrix nodded. "Even Sunstorm has better chances with this procedure than he would without it."

"Life expectancy as a warrior is nearly doubled, should he survive the process," Noitefel offered.

"You've been keeping up on our notes," Wheeljack said approvingly. "He'll have an easier time of controlling the radiation as well, making it easier for him to be socialized."

"It sounds like you're making a great deal of progress," Optimus nodded slightly. "Will it work as well for non-Seekers? Or will you be back at square one?"

"It should be the same process for any Con," Ratchet spoke up gruffly. "Hotspike and Coldspike weren't Seekers and the differences seem minimal. Individual variance and psychological condition have more effect than frametype."

"Seekers are just more valuable to us, and the Cons, so they've been a focus," Mitrix told him. "We want as many of them to survive as possible."

"You hope to bring natural flight back to the Tezita," he guessed, nodding slightly. "Carry on then, you seem to have everything under control here for now. Have we found a way to avoid another 'rescue' attempt?"

"Yes, we do," Singer inclined her head. "We never agreed with Paulla's destruction of them. Perhaps with it coming from outside blood, they will be more stable."

"It is unlikely that he will attempt for Starscream again," Mitrix added. "I displayed rather pointedly that I can control him, send him back to the Ark, at will."

"And the others? I understand that after we were taken, we found there was a way to disable Skywarp's ability to teleport in and out, it was just prohibitively expensive to use," Optimus offered.

"They haven't tried yet," she pointed out. "Even when they knew we were critically vulnerable. I can install the code I did on Starscream if it would make you feel better."

"No need," he said, shaking his head. "You're right, it seems unlikely that they'll attack at this stage. If anything does happen, set off an alarm before anything else."

"Prime, the most efficient solution is to turn Ezara loose without her Guard with orders to capture him," Noitefel spoke up. "There is a 98.68% probability that he will be neutralized as a threat within three orn."

"The main concern is that I'm worried that if we continue capturing Decepticon soldiers this way, Megatron will respond by increasing his depredations on Cybertron," Prime admitted. "Besides, Ezara has indicated that she'd rather not capture him until we're sure the process will work safely. Since she's the one who'd have to catch him, that does limit our options."

Noitefel nodded his acceptance of the fact and made no counter-statement, which was the behavior Optimus was beginning to realize was normal. His campaign tactician had a very different view on things than Prowl or Smokescreen and tended to avoid confrontation with him more than most. It was something else to ask Windsong about when he came on duty next. This was the kind of situation Noitefel _should_ have an opinion, or at least statistical analysis, about.

"Mostly that last one," Singer gave a rueful smile. "She enjoys time with her Seeker very much."

"I could install an override code in Skywarp the next time they are together," Mitrix offered. "Similar to Starscream's but with a prohibition about taking anything from the Ark."

"I think it would be a good measure to take," Optimus agreed.

Mitrix flicked her chin up in agreement and turned back to her work on Starscream.

"Prime," Skyfire's stopped him from leaving just yet. "Thank you for giving me a second chance with Starscream."

"You're welcome, Skyfire," he said, reaching up to put a hand on the taller mech's shoulder. "I hope you get that second chance when this is all through. On a peaceful Cybertron," he added.

Skyfire smiled down at him, something wistful in his optics. "And among peaceful stars."

It took Optimus a moment to work out what that meant, and he chided himself for it. "Among peaceful stars," he corrected himself, though he hadn't been asked to. Of course two explorers would want the stars, not the world they willingly left behind for tens if not hundreds of vorn at a time.

"Skyfire," Mitrix's voice got the shuttle's attention and he turned to help work on Starscream again.

"I think that's our cue to leave the medical types to their work," Optimus chuckled, turning to leave with Noitefel. "Serious question for you. How much of a strain is the current workload for the Guard?"

As they walked, he watched the familiar sight of a tactician dropping every bit of attention he could from the world around him to fully analyze the question. It was a process that never ceased to amaze him.

"Efficiency is currently at six-three percent and is expected to decrease at point five percent per two decaorn we maintain this schedule," Noitefel answered. "Critical measures will need to be taken when we reach twenty-six percent."

"And I'm assuming I'll get further trying to convince Wheeljack and Sparkplug to put in some extra time making a few spare chassis than I will trying to convince all of you that I _can_ be allowed to walk around the Ark without constant supervision," Prime summarized. "Are you willing to accept some help that isn't Guard-sparked?"

"The Decepticons held you captive less than a decaorn ago," Noitefel said with the faint hint of stiffness in his voice that was all too reminiscent of Prowl when he'd had the spark scared out of him too recently to cope with. "They are capable of doing so again at any time. Help would depend on who, Prime."

'Mother hen' popped unbidden into Prime's processor and he had to stifle a laugh. Yes, that was exactly what they were acting like, all five of them and half of the crew. Leave it to the humans to have a saying that so perfectly described a Cybertronian. Of them all though, Noitefel seemed to take it as a personal affront more than anyone else.

Hopefully he'd settle down after a while when things didn't go so drastically wrong with any regularity.

"Of those who are already here on Earth, there's Ironhide, Blastfire and Hound, just to name those who aren't already on full assignment to other tasks that make better use of their skills," Optimus offered. "As for when I was captured - bear in mind that it was, first of all, before you had been reactivated, and second, that I had two Guard in the room with me already at the time. The capture was arranged in such a way that there could have been a full battalion in the room and it wouldn't have helped."

Noitefel looked thoughtful, and displeased, then nodded slightly. "Their addition will help the strain greatly. Thank you, Prime."

"You're welcome," he nodded. "Besides, it will help keep them out of trouble. So ... how are things going with Prowl?" He asked him easily.

"Quite well," a small smile crept across his face. "It is very pleasant to have another to talk to. Pre-programmed tacticians are not prone to remain in the Well for long."

"I imagine not," Prime nodded slightly. "You probably know about this already, but Whippoorwill is already starting a betting pool on how long the two of you will be courting."

A small, disgruntled sound greeted that statement. "I am aware. She is pestering me to ask for a few days free time to take him somewhere. Apparently the idea that either of us have such programming amuses her to no end."

"You'd best get used to it," Optimus chuckled. "I got the same sort of response after they found out about Elita-1 and myself. Does it actually bother you?"

Noitefel considered the question as only a tactician could, then shook his head. "No. It is in her core programming to be like that. I would prefer she direct her energy to more useful pursuits, but I know that is not her way. I can perceive it serves a vital purpose, even if I can not understand what that is."

"One of these days, I'm going to convince you that you can answer a question with more than efficiency ratings and logic," Optimus chuckled. "I won't talk to her about stopping it then. Do you have any particular intentions towards courting him, or is it more friendship?" He asked. With Prowl, it was almost impossible to tell - he was friendly to so few of the others.

"I am courting him," Noitefel answered easily and immediately. No trace of reservation or question in him at all. He knew his goal and he knew that goal's place in the greater scheme of things.

It was a clarity of purpose that Optimus was more than slightly envious of on occasion.

"Has it worked on Prowl yet, convincing him to answer with his emotional center?" Noitefel asked in what seemed to be actual curiosity to Optimus.

"Occasionally," Optimus chuckled. "Once I convinced him that I considered the morale of my SIC to be a key efficiency issue. Once we've got Ironhide and the others up to speed as temporary guards - by _my_ satisfaction," he added, knowing they'd never really measure up to Noitefel's standards, "you might consider taking a few days to decompress. Maybe find something that would interest the both of you; Prowl could use some leave as well, after having to take charge while I was POW."

"It was immensely stressful to his systems," Noitefel predictably accepted the idea of seeing to another's welfare better than his own. "There is an international law enforcement summit in Las Vegas in six local months. It could be a useful PR event for us. Making contacts within the law enforcement community from many countries could smooth relations after we fight on their soil."

It gave Optimus a small sense of satisfaction knowing he could, to an extent, manipulate these logic driven officers to do what _he_ thought was needed for their own good. It would be much easier now, with the ability to play one against the other. If calling it a PR event would make it easier to get them to go, he was all for it.

"It sounds like an excellent idea," Prime nodded. "It would also allow us to introduce some of the elements of Cybertronian law enforcement, which will do them quite a bit of good when they finally get off-world. Are you planning on going as you are?"

"If you permit," Noitefel said evenly. "I believe it is best to be as honest as possible with the locals, within law and reason. The regulations regarding interactions with the local population seem ... contradictory."

"Unfortunately, that's an element of dealing with humans in general," Prime admitted. "I'll have to speak with the local governments about it, but I believe it's time that we acknowledge that we are here, and living alongside them without attempting to conquer or destroy them. Particularly after Megatron's gambit with bringing Cybertron here."

"Yes. That is a rather difficult event to explain as anything other than alien contact," Noitefel said thoughtfully, his logic center and tactical programming going full tilt. "If you would give me a few orn, I can provide a plan for becoming public that is most likely to work, including variants for the likely issues."

"You've got it," Optimus nodded. "Just understand that you may have additional issues thrown at you by stubborn world leaders," he added, heading back towards his quarters.

"Of course," Noitefel responded with the calm assurance that came so naturally to his kind. "Accounting for the motives and methods of all major players are necessary for any successful campaign plan. I have downloaded everything available about those involved, including secondary powers such as GI Joe and Cobra."

"Unfortunately," Prime explained, "significant parts of it simply don't make logical sense. There's a contingent of them who refuse to acknowledge that we're aliens despite the fact that they've met us. Not the majority, thankfully, but they're there."

"I believe they fall under the same category as those of our kind that can not accept that biological life can be sentient, and the group of biological life that can not believe a machine can be," he agreed. "They do make logical sense, and follow a predictable pattern, once one understands their internal logic. For us, it is little different than predicting Decepticons, or our own forces. Once one understands how a group thinks one can predict their reactions to events with reasonable success."

"Maybe I should assign you to diplomacy," Optimus chuckled, reaching his quarters and opening the door. "One more thing I'd like you to work on - I have a list of prospects for restoration that I went over with Windsong. I'd appreciate it if you'd go through it, pay particular attention to individuals you think would make good temporary Guard members, and good liaisons with the humans. Given what we saw in that sim, I would like to see that we have good relations with them in the future. Particularly given Cybertron's new orbit."

"Of course, Prime," Noitefel inclined his head in a respectful bow and followed him into his quarters. "I will have those recommendations before shift change. From experience, I make a better advisor than diplomat," he added as he made a quick, efficient sweep of the two rooms; the living/work space and the private wash rack. "My programming is too tightly linked to proving _you_ with victory to manage the more balanced needs of a diplomat."

"It was a joke, Noitefel," Optimus offered. "I know that Arcweld won't be a suitable Guard member, but I want to be sure to get him as soon as we can; medical needs some more true medics as much as the Guard need some extra help, even if Ratchet would rather work himself to a system lock than admit it. Beyond that, I'm very much open to suggestions."

"Fliers, particularly Seekers, will be very useful. We need air power badly, even inexperienced air power. They'll learn fast and hang on to life harder than anyone else, knowing what's waiting for them when they go give in. Given the current state of Earth and Cybertron, engineers and architects should also rate high. Now that we know how, gestalts are very useful in so many ways."

He paused, watching as Optimus retreated into the private wash rack. It wasn't a large space given the mech it was meant for, but it served its purpose. He very much hoped his abortive move to join him and assist with the task of cleaning The Prime didn't show.

The offer wasn't going to be welcome, he knew. This Prime wanted to do things for himself.

Neither fact eased the ache in his spark at being unneeded. Unwanted he could cope with. Sometimes a Guard had to do things their charge did not approve of or appreciate. Not being needed ... he wasn't sure how long he could deal with that. He knew he didn't _want_ to deal with it at all. It hurt too much to contemplate being unneeded by his Prime.

He knew, though he would admit it to no one but Prowl and only if he asked directly, that it was why he was courting the other tactician. Sparked mechs could never understand the core-deep _need_ pre-programmed ones had to serve their purpose. It frightened and distressed them greatly to hear him calmly speak of deactivating himself when his purpose was served as if it was nothing more than going into recharge.

They could never understand that it really _was_ that simple to him. He was given life to serve a purpose. When that purpose was fulfilled, he had no desire to continue. It simply wasn't in his programming to fear death any more than he feared life.

Yet now the thought of deactivating himself sent tremors through his spark and unleashed rebellion in every corner of his CPU. He'd spent too long fighting to keep his spark away from the pool that all came from in the heart of Primus to accept going back. He was sure he would obey a direct order to deactivate himself. He also knew that this Prime would never be able to give such an order.

It left him in the uncomfortable position, less than a two decaorns after reclaiming a body, of trying to work out some way to have _purpose_ if his growing fears that the Prime did not need him as a Guard became too obvious to ignore.

If not that, he needed someone who had the processor and programming to sooth his agitation and convince him that deactivation was the right choice.

Prowl could do both. Whatever logic demanded of the situation, Noitefel could trust the other pre-programmed tactician to do what was best for the greater good.

It was what they both did.

He caught Prime looking at him with an unusual, almost concerned expression from under the rain of mild solvent, and immediately wondered how much of his thoughts had made it to his expression.

"Is there something wrong?" Prime asked him, letting the dirt wash down the drain along with any cracked paint, glad to see there wasn't much of the latter.

"No, Prime," Noitefel assured him quickly. "My tactical computer occasionally creates disturbing outcomes. It is a core reason we have limited emotional programming. It is disturbing enough I may visibly react to it, but with full emotional programming it would be crippling."

"That sounds like something I should know about," Optimus offered. "Outcomes related to anything in particular, or just running through possible assassination attempts in your processor?"

Noitefel hesitated, not actually wishing to talk about what was plaguing him, at least not with his Prime.

"Possible outcomes after the Tezita arrive in force," he said instead, for those too produced some highly disturbing results. "At a minimum, they will completely unbalance the power in this galaxy. At worst they can wipe out all life as we know it."

"I'm well aware of that, I'm afraid," Optimus agreed. "It's very much a matter of honor that she won't conquer Cybertron. Fortunately, the Toe'Emirc's word is, to a large extent, inviolable."

"It is disturbing non the less," Noitefel said softly, once again checking his impulse to step forward and assist in cleaning and repairing the Prime's finish. It made him ache to do so, but there was no question in his CPU that he must keep his distance. This was not Sentinel or Nova. Optimus did not want to be attended to. "Their assistance has provided the only probable chance we have to win the war. The probability that the Decepticons can stand against even the preliminary group is negligible given the data I have."

"Have you read the files we have on the Tezita and their history?" Optimus asked him. "Particularly regarding the proportion of military to non-military."

"Yes, Prime," he inclined his head slightly. "Approximately one military for two civilians. They have a cyclical form of civil war, approximately one ganon in length, that does not seem to revolve around any function other than to assure themselves that the new Toe'Emirc is suitable for leading an army with no one but itself to fight."

"What she's hoping to accomplish is to give her army somebody else to fight," Optimus explained. "It's an entirely alien way of life to us - even sparks like the Twins and Ironhide would rather that peace _exist_, but it's anathema to the Tezita. I'm hoping that we'll be able to direct their aggression in more constructive ways through. The Quintessons, for example."

Noitefel didn't bother to stop the small but savage smile that crossed his face at that prospect. "It would certainly be am effective use of such a force," he did try not to rumble his pleasure at the thought. In fact, he wasn't even sure _why_ the idea pleased him so much, only that it lit something deep inside his coding on fire like nothing else ever had. "It seems that dealing with them will be much like trying to control the Decepticons if they were not trying to destroy us. Possible, even plausible, with the correct plans in place, but very dangerous at the best of times."

"Very true - and something we'll have to be very, very careful with," Optimus nodded and turned off the shower, pausing while blowers dried him off. "We want to make sure they keep busy - we also want to be sure that they keep busy doing things that ultimately make the galaxy a safer place. Preferably far, far away from Cybertron and Earth. Keep them satisfied that there are better fights out there against foes who will cause them less diplomatic trouble. Consider diplomacy a necessary evil for them - I have the feeling it's quite accurate, especially under Ezara. They'd prefer to pass up one opponent that will force them to placate allies and take on a foe who their allies would like to see subjugated."

Noitefel nodded, adding that phrasing to the very similar conclusion he'd already drawn about the Tezita's military leader. "Prime, I have gathered, from Jazz's files, that the distinction between military and civilian among the Tezita are at least as much a factor of what technology one is based on as their coding. He has indicated that there are non-combatants who are military, and very violent civilians," he spoke even as he continued to process the massive data backlog he'd downloaded when he'd arrived.

"While I have no doubt that keeping them occupied is of paramount importance, there is a 43% probability with current data that the percentage of military Tezita that need to be kept busy with conquest is much smaller than the full ten billion who bear the military designation. Current data indicates less than thirty percent are warriors, those who must be kept busy with conflict, though at least ninety-seven percent are combat-trained."

"That sounds about right," Optimus agreed. "And she'll be factoring that in as well, I'm sure. Unfortunately, even thirty percent of their population can create a massive imbalance of power."

"Yes, three billion warriors, even without factoring in their unique technology, will have a devastating effect on any area they appear in," Noitefel agreed. "That is still a far more controllable number than ten billion."

"Noitefel... I need you to do something for me, and I need you to keep it very much a secret," Prime said after a few kliks to think it over. "I need a few contingency plans, in case things go awry with the Tezita. The last thing we need to do is to introduce a new conqueror into the galaxy who we can't at least _try_ to control."

"Of course, Prime," he said with an absolutely even voice. "I would normally request to bring the head of Intelligence into the loop, as it will be his forces that feature prominently in any plan that may succeed. Can he keep it a secret, given his relationship with the Toe'Emirc?"

A lifetime around Prowl gave Optimus the insight into their muted body language to read the excitement at the order. It was a difficult tactical problem, and an important one. A challenge.

"Jazz can," Prime nodded. "Bring him into it, but make sure he understands that, until I say otherwise, he's the only one. Also, try to minimize the number of casualties involved. I understand that we can't prevent them entirely, but any plan that involved assassinating the Toe'Emirc would likely bring the rest of the warrior class crashing down on us... which I'm sure you've already realized," he acknowledged.

"I have, Prime," he inclined his head slightly. "Any effective plan will require a much better understanding of their culture and command structure than I have at the moment. I will prepare the plans after I have consulted Jazz about any details not in Teletraan-1."

"A good plan," Optimus nodded. "I'm going to shut down for recharge; you may call Jazz in to talk to him, rouse me if you have anything that needs my input."

"Thank you, Prime, I will," Noitefel inclined his head and walked over to his preferred spot to watch the room while Prime recharged before comming Jazz.

* * *

And thus the end of arc 2. Arc 3 (of 5) up next.


End file.
